


Second Chance

by OverthinkIt



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Chill, Distrust, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, It’s gonna be a problem, I’m not joking, No More Resets (Undertale), OC insert, Oh god, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Slow To Update, Swearing, Tags May Change, The Underground (Undertale), Time Shenanigans, Wait but I’m still going, Wait nevermind, Well not really, but y’all ain’t gonna get any more chapters, for now, it’s just fucking abandoned, i’m workin, just not live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-01-13 09:19:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18466033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverthinkIt/pseuds/OverthinkIt
Summary: Running from her life on the surface, Alexia decides that the best way to go would be to disappear. Out on Mount Ebott, she really wasn’t preparing for the hijinks that await her.Falling into a strange new land, Alexia discovers a species of sentient creatures that go by an unknown term: monsters. Made of magic. Well, she knew what magic was (sort of), so at least she wasn’t completelyin the dark.





	1. The First Shot

**Author's Note:**

> In which we meet the protagonist, the antagonist, and a pyromancer goat woman.

_I push my glasses into my face once more, and strain to climb up Mount Ebott. I only need to climb this thing for a bit, right? I hiss in pain as several sharp rocks cut their way through my sweater into my skin. Damn, this climb really is hard. Though, to be fair, I’ve never climbed a mountain. Or anything, really._

__

_Looking up into the sky, I find the Sun beginning to set. I probably should’ve grabbed warmer clothes. Probably a coat. Or just a scarf. I feel a chill roll down my neck, as if in agreement. Great, this climb was horrid enough without my stupid cold intolerance._

_The chill of the mountain settles quickly, and every so often I feel a shiver run through me. Maybe I should rest for the night. Maybe this was a bad idea, actually. I could live in that village. It isn’t always horrible. I quickly shake that thought away. It’s Mount Ebott or death, I remind myself. Ironically, they both mean the same thing._

_After rigorous climbing, I finally see a semi-flat area. Just next to it is a small cavern. I can feel my lungs shrink as I exhale, sighing from relief. My body is bruised, cut, and dirtied. My hair is a mess, and several times I had to keep my glasses from falling off my face, and therefore off the mountain. I could cry._  
_No, no, I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to, I can’t cry. No matter how much pain I feel, I am incapable of crying._  


_Settling into the cavern, I see a hole. A huge hole. A hole so big I’m surprised I didn’t see it before. I look down into it. It gets darker the deeper it gets. Dark, darker, and yet so, so much darker. It seems bottomless. Well, if the legends are true, I can disappear here. I laugh, and it's a dry, humourless cackle that sounds alien to my ears. Finally. I thought I’d just die of starvation or something. That’s the death I don’t want: slow and painful. This is_ perfection. _Just one step…_

__

_The ground swallows me, and I close my eyes. And then I fall. And fall._  
_And fall._  
_And just… keep… falling._  
_And then I feel a darkness swallow me._  
_It’s all-encompassing. Endless darkness, everywhere. I open my eyes. Still dark, huh? I wonder how deep this thing g—_

_“Please, stay determined.”_

I wake up, fluttering my eyes open. I’m not in my bed, I’m in a flowerbed. A flowerbed?  
Feeling around me, I can conclude that yes, this is indeed a flowerbed. Squinting around, I find the bed isn’t very large. Only about the size of a twin-size bed. How did I get here, again?  


  


_Oh._  
Right.

  


Yep, the memories are flooding back. That was probably a stupid decision. I could’ve chosen any way to go, and I pick the one that has the best possible chance of failing. I shudder to think what I could’ve done if my legs broke.

Slowly testing my muscles, I’m surprised to find I’m not horribly broken. I fell for a long time, right? No way a cluster of flowers could’ve broken that fall! Must’ve been some kind of divine intervention. I laugh, as if an angel would ever decide to save my life.

  


Sighing, I slowly begin to crawl around. I feel around the flower patch, grasping for any feeling of plastic or glass. I hate how blind I am, without my glasses. The world may as well be nothing but blobs and dots of different colors.  
Seeing a small spot of purple, I grope the arms of my glasses. Sighing in relief, I open them up. The right arm is twisted and the rim surrounding the lenses is scratched. I can deal with that. Placing my glasses on, the world becomes sharp and clear. I smile, seeing that the flower patch really isn’t that large. I guess that’s lucky.

Looking up, I see a large hole in the cavern ceiling. I mean, where else could I have come from? There isn’t much light coming from the outside, so I assume that it must be around night time. I could have either been out for hours or no time at all. Hard to tell when all you’ve got is a dark, musty cave to explore.

Looking down at the flowers, I frown. Maybe, at the very least, I could take a souvenir. These look like the flowers at the center of my village, and you never get to touch those. You could even get fined for _looking_ at them the wrong way. It’s some kind of memorial, for a kid named ‘Chara’? I never cared enough to ask about them, even though they were supposedly some huge and important part of my town’s history. Heh.  


  


‘History.’

  


Reaching down, I pluck a small golden flower from the soil. It looks healthy, despite growing in such a barren area. Stone, dirt, and dust all collect here. Not the best place for gardening. I tuck the flower inside the tangled mess I call hair. Not the best look, but I’ll survive.  


  
Looking around, I luckily find an opening in the cavern walls. It almost looks like a doorway. Like it was built. But that’s ridiculous, people don’t live here.  


  
Walking through, I find a single golden flower in the middle of the room. Actually, it almost looks like it has a f—  


  
“Howdy!” The flower chirps, in a high-pitched voice. I stumble backwards.  


  
“W-what the-?” I stammer. No way it just talked, right? No, nope! No, I must just be hearing things. Yeah, hearing things. That somehow sounds less crazy then a talking flower.

  
“I’m Flowey, Flowey the flower!” It continues, and I look at it. No, stare at it. It’s… alive. It really does have a face.

  
“F-Flowey.” I repeat, placing a hand on my chest to steady my racing heart. It’s beating like a goddamn rave song.

  
“Yup, that’s me~!” Flowey winks. _Winks?!_ It doesn’t have eyelids!

  
I gawk at it. “You’re… you’re… a talking flower? Jesus, I have a concussion.” I conclude, rubbing my head. The flower— er, Flowey snickers.

  
“Hehe, you seem awful confused.” Flowey prods my ankle with a leaf and I squeal. When did it get so close? How did it get so close?! It has roots, right?

  
“G-get away, w-weed!” I squeak out. God, since when did I stutter? I guess when I was faced with a literal walking(?), talking flower. I’m not sure how to deal with this revelation. Are all flowers sentient?

  
Flowey takes the insult really well, actually laughing at it. “Weed? That’s all you can come up with? Wow, you’re so unoriginal.” Unoriginal?! I- what does that even mean?

  
“To be unoriginal requires other p-people to insult you.” I state, and Flowey giggles.

  
“Oh, you have no idea.” It replies vaguely. I hum in agreement.

  
“Well, u-uh, you’re a dick.” I expertly claim with grace and finesse. “I’d very much like it if you f-fucking died, along with whatever fucking ‘advice’ you were gonna give me.”

  
Flowey snickers. “When did I say I was gonna give you advice?” Suddenly, I feel a tug… somewhere. Flowey reels its stem backwards, and the tugging pressure increases. It’s like it’s trying to pull something out of me, and the more it tries the worse it feels and now I’m getting a headache and I just want it to _stop—_

  


What? Everything dissipates, the pain forgotten. I blink repeatedly, trying to focus on my surroundings. My gaze is pulled towards a soft purple hue, emanating from my chest. It seeps from my body, and with it goes my brain’s functionality. I can only focus on that thing, that light. I don’t like it, it’s untrustworthy, it’s strange, it’s weird and I don’t understand it.

The light grows in size and shapes itself into a cartoony heart. The hell? The thing is so small it’d fit in my hands if I cupped them. I glare at it, and there’s a soft red hue surrounding the purple, making the edges of the heart pink. In the direct center, there’s a deep, black, oozing gash about two centimeters deep. It hurts to look at.

Flowey’s voice comes to me. “...your soul. What the heck is wrong with it?” I think I missed the start of that sentence, but I’m sure as hell not asking it to repeat itself.

Also, it just insulted me. Right? “That’s not nice.” I tell it drearily, trying to look for the source of its voice. Everything is so hard to focus on, the heart just demands my attention. What did Flowey call it, again? A soul? Is it my soul?

I smile at it, though now another dull thought rings through me hazy mess of a brain. “You just… pulled out my soul?”

  
“You’re not very bright, are you?” Hey! That’s really, really offensive! My soul is glowing a very nice purple, and a little bit of red, and it’s very, very bright!  
I hear a snicker. Then, “You’re something. Here, I’ll leave you alone for a bit. But first, I’ve got one thing to share”  
Huh?

  


A small, white seed is materialized in front of me. I do a double-take, and sure enough, it’s floating. My soul pulses as a reaction to the disturbance, and I feel threatened suddenly.  


“Everyone here can use magic.” _Magic?!_ “For example, this is a bullet. And everyone here is out to kill you. So, that being said…” The implication sinks in as fast as the pellet in front of me is thrown into my soul. I let out a scream, grasping my ribs for comfort. It feels like I was just shot through every part of my body. Everything stings, everything hurts. It takes a moment for the pain to disappear, leaving my head reeling.  


I hear Flowey’s manic giggles as it shouts gleefully, “It’s a kill or be killed world, here! Remember that, human.”  
The world spins some more for a moment in total silence, before a small green bullet runs into my soul. I flinch, expecting pain, but instead feel relieved. It’s a soft, warm feeling that engulfs me, and I feel slightly stronger.  


With Flowey’s voice gone, all I know is my soul. The crack seems to have grown, looking slightly darker than before. I feel a pang of hatred towards Flowey. It attacked me, and then acted as if it just taught me some really important lesson!  
Unconsciously, I reach to grasp my soul. It’s warm, and reassuring. As if it wasn’t just shot a few seconds ago. Where did it come from? My chest, right? I should put it back. I have no idea if this thing should even be outside of me, but considering it was pulled out by a demonic flower, I have the right mindset to assume that it should stay safely inside my body. How do I put it back in?  


Placing my hands in front of it, I coax my soul towards the area where my actual, beating heart would be. It gravitates to it naturally, and soon the world around me focuses. The colors are brighter, the shapes sharper, the smells clearer, and sounds of the cavern resound in my ears. 

  


Oh, that feels really nice.  


  


I look up from my chest, and test walking. Yeah, everything feels normal now. I guess that wasn’t harmful? No, it still hurt like hell, but I guess I’m ‘okay’ now.  
Wait, there’s a person up ahead.  
I immediately pull myself to the ground below, making myself less visible. I push with my hands and feet, scrambling backwards until I hit a wall. Shit, _shit._ What do I do? How do I explain myself?

  


“Hello? I heard a scream, is someone out there?” A woman’s voice calls. She sounds motherly, inviting. Instantly, my suspicion skyrockets into anxiety. What does she want? She doesn’t sound like she’d be the type of person to climb mountains, so what is she doing underneath one?

“Please, I do not intend to harm you.” Shit, did she hear me? Oh, god, she’s definitely going to do something. Is she going to attack me, like Flowey did? He said everyone has magic, right? But maybe this woman has nice magic?  
_Nice magic, seriously?_ I sneer at myself.  
I hear something like a campfire springing to life. My nose is assaulted by the smell of smoke, and everything in the room is brighter. The woman is tall, and… and…

  
She’s _holding fire._  


“What the absolute ever-loving holy _fuck.”_ I mutter underneath my breath, though there’s no doubt the woman can see me. Actually, the more I look at her, the less human she looks. It’s almost like she’s covered in fur, with small horns protruding from the top of her head. Like a cow… or a goat. Yeah, a goat.

“Oh. You’re an adult human.” It isn’t so much as a question as it is a statement. The fire sizzles brighter, and I flinch from it. I feel threatened, more so than before. Yeah, the bullet hurt, but actual fire? That’s way worse.  
“Y-ye-ea-eah.” The word is caught is my throat. I stare into the fire the goat person is holding, the flames dancing. It’s hypnotic, but not in a peaceful way. My breathing starts to pick up.  
“What are you doing in the Underground?” The creature before me questions, glaring. I flinch again, thrusting myself a few inches away.  
“I- I- I fe-ell.” I admit, trembling, dimly aware that my lungs aren’t getting quite enough air. I suck in a breath, trying to hold it best I can. In, out. In, out.  
“Have you come to destroy the rest of the monsters your kind imprisoned?” She bellows at me, clearly upset. My breath is cut short as I yelp in fear. The trembling is harder to control, but I continue to steady myself before speaking. I don’t understand what she’s talking about. I tear my eyes from the lady’s fire.  
“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about. What is a m-monster?” I speak, my voice cracking slightly. The goat woman before me looks absolutely outraged, the fire in her hands sparking wildly.  
“Do not play games with me, human. Do you seriously expect me to believe you simply forgot our kind?” She hisses, with an eerie calm tinge to her voice.  
“I- I really don’t know what you’re talking about!” I yell, panicking. “I have no clue what the hell a ‘monster’ is!”  
The flames die down a bit, and my swirling thoughts decide that must mean that she’s slightly calmer. “You simply act as if you never shared the Earth with us?” She growls. Maybe she’s angrier but trying to contain it, then.  
“I- I’m real sorry for w-whatever happened, but I-I’ve ne-ever heard the term ‘monster’ in my l-life.” I look into her brown eyes, trying to ground myself. I search for anything that might indicate that I’m doing the right thing. There is only a cold glare to see, every emotion perfectly hidden. My shoulders tense.  


She glares into my eyes, seemingly trying to search for something. I don’t know what she’s looking for. Sincerity? Kindness? Compassion? Fear? I try to keep myself contained, and take a deep breath.

  


“Look, I don’t know what your kind has been through. I don’t know why you’re all living under this mountain. I was simply climbing it,” I decide to ignore why. “And I happened to fall down a hole. I have no intention to harm any of you,” Expect Flowey, but I’ll gloss over that for now. “If you’d like, I can listen to your tale?” 

  
It’s a long, crushing silence before the ‘monster’ lets the flame in her hand dissipate with a sizzle. She sighs, and offers her hand. “I’m very sorry for scaring you, it’s just… monsterkind has been through much hardship in the Underground. We’ve had a bad history with humans.”  


I look at her warily. Her posture is still tense, her tone still dripping with hurt and malice. She seems apologetic, but also still suspicious of my intentions. _I_ don’t trust _her,_ but I need _her_ to trust _me._ I take her hand slowly and let her help me up. 

  
“I’ll try my best to understand. My name is Alexia.” I give a small smile, as much as my will could allow.  
She sighs. “I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. Alexia, just know that if you dare harm anyone in the Underground, I will be most displeased.” I don’t miss the implications associated. I mean, if Toriel can create and hold fire like it’s nothing, I’m terrified of what she may be like in a fight.  


I huff out a breath. Hopefully, I won’t get on her bad side, so I’ll never have to find that out.


	2. Small Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alexia makes her way through the Ruins, and gets just a tad bit angry.

When I heard ‘Ruins’, I wasn’t expecting this.  


The entirety of the place is twists and turns, filled with long hallways and garbage. I can see some other kinds of monsters— “Monsters come in all shapes and sizes, dear Alexia. Some are furry goats, and others are small frogs. There are some you may not be able to describe”— that Toriel tried her best to explain. Monsters are made of magic. What kind, no one ever specifies.  


Oddly enough, the Ruins are filled with puzzles. The first one was simple; don’t press the switches on the lighter floor. Toriel had a training dummy set up in the next room, but quickly led me away from it, saying something about how I don’t need experience. Maybe I should’ve trained with it.  


Then there was… spikes.  


“Oh.” I had muttered, staring at the trench. “A walk of faith, great.”  


“Here, take my hand.” Toriel outstretched her hand, which I’ve found is much larger than my own. I glance up at her before grasping it. She can’t lead me to my death, otherwise she’d have to step on the spikes as well. I trust that.  
Toriel had led me through the spike maze carefully, though I wonder how I was ever supposed to cross that on my own. Maybe I wasn’t meant to.  


Then, we came to a long hallway. A very, very long hallway. “Alexia, dear, I’m going to have to leave you for now. I need to prepare my home for your arrival. If anything happens, then call me on this cell phone.” Toriel handed me a very large phone, probably from around the 1980’s. I tried very hard not to laugh at the ridiculous size of it.  


“Now, if you wish, you may explore. But do not stray too far, as I will have to find you to bring you to my home.” Toriel explained to me. I nodded, deciding that I was going to find a way out of here. Toriel was acting suspicious; she wanted to keep a close eye on me, I knew that. But now, it seemed like some kind of motherly instincts were taking over.  


_I don’t trust her._  


Now, I may or may not having practically sprinted out of the room after waiting for a few minutes. Now, the reason why is very simple: I saw a flash of yellow from the corner of my eye, and was instantly reminded of Flowey. I even heard him giggle as I ran, for Christ’s sake!

  


I pant, realizing I’ve probably run far enough. I had jumped over a crack in the ground, along with a row of spikes meant to trap me. I decide to take a break and sit down. Well, there can’t be too many puzzles left, right?  
Glancing up from my lap, I see… a very horrible broken, worn-down, cracking floor. I inhale through clenched teeth; of course! Of course, that’s the next ‘puzzle’. I sigh, getting up from my spot.

  


Looking carefully at the ground, I notice that there’s spots where the ground looks more stable. Outlining each area, the bulkier floorboards form a thin, twisting path. Well, I’ve got no other options, right?  


I experimentally take one step. The ground creaks heavily in protest, but doesn’t burst open. That’s about as good as I can get, right? I take a few more steps. It’s loud and frightening, but I’m slowly making my way through the invisible maze.  


Without thinking, I take another step ahead. The floor collapses into itself, and I scream as my foot is pulled through. I plant my left foot down, trying to stop myself from falling. That only succeeds in making the fragile floor bend in on itself, throwing off my balance. The current hole isn’t large enough for me to fall into, but it is enough for me to get stuck.  


Out of options, I grab at my right leg and pull as hard as I can, freeing some of my leg. I can feel the wood clawing at my skin, and I let out an unconscious whimper. Despite this, the plan is working, and I pull harder. It feels like my entire leg is burning, but I don’t stop until my foot is freed. I gasp, and then sigh in relief, hunching down into the floor.  


After that hiccup, I’m much more cautious with my steps. I tap the ground before placing all my weight on it, checking for signs that it’ll collapse. Does it bend? Does it feel thin? Does it creak as I barely tap it? Better not walk there, then.  


Finally, I make it onto solid ground. I fall onto it with a heavy sigh, muttering thanks to every deity I know. God, Jesus, Zeus, Mother Nature, Hades, the universe itself… and then I calm down. 

  


Brushing myself off, I continue trekking forwards. I find another puzzle, this time with rocks and spikes. I shrug. Seems simple enough.  
With care, I pick up each rock and set them on their respective switch. I’m about to pick up the third one when it suddenly talks.  


“Hey! Who said ya could push me aroun’?” The rock has a New Jersey accent, somehow. I feel heavier than usual. Oh god, _please_ don’t be another Flowey. I don’t want a demonic rock stalking me, too.  


Gotta act natural. “Oh, I was just wondering if you could please move over to that switch? There’s some spikes up ahead and I need to get past them.” I smile, though I don’t know if the rock can see me.  


“Ey, just say so next time, wouldja?” They complain, and crawl (slide?) over to their respective switch. I thank them, and, just as I’m about to walk over them, the spikes shoot back up. I start, looking over to the rock. They’re moving back to their original spot.  


“Hey, you moved too early!” I call, and the rock mumbles something like an apology and slides back into place. I thank them, again, and walk past the spike room.

  
Up ahead, there’s an opening to another room. Between the two rooms is a pile of leaves, and a transparent monster. Actually, he reminds me of a ghost. Like, the sheet-over-the-head ghosts. He’s laying in the leaf pile, gently snoring.  
“Excuse me, can you get up?” I ask. The ghost startles, floating up and locking eyes with me. He looks so sad.

  


“O-oh geez, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get in your way. Oh, I’m sorry…” The ghost starts to cry, and I have no idea what to do. Uh, uh, think of positive things! Uh, uh…  


“Hey, it’s okay! You looked really peaceful, you can lay back down if you want.” I exclaim.  


Without warning, my soul is pulled out of me. The ghost starts to cry more, looking absolutely terrible.  
“Oh god… I didn’t mean to- oh, oh no…” His tears begin to float and glow, flying around the area and homing in on my soul like missles. I jump back, tugging my soul away. “I… You need to dodge my tears, oh… I’m sorry…”  


I mentally scream. What makes people happy? Jokes, right? Yeah, jokes make people laugh. “Hey, u-um, you wanna hear some really crappy ghost puns?”  


The ghost blinks, tears falling from his eyes rapidly. He nods slowly.  


“Yeah, that’s the spirit!” I say with fake enthusiasm. The monster gives a little smile, and some of the tears fade from his eyes. I feel proud of myself, quickly thinking of another joke. “Hey, you know, there’s one place I never expect to see ghosts.”  


The monster tilts his head, silently questioning me to continue.  


“I mean, really, would you ever see a spirit in a living room?” I smirk. The ghost gives a weak laugh in return. He looks a bit cheerier.  


“H-hey, uh… you wanna see something cool?” The ghost smiles, his tears faded. I carefully cup my soul and close my hands, and find I can absorb my soul that way as well. I smile.  


“Sure!”  


“Okay, um…” He starts to cry again, but now his tears are floating upwards. They pile onto each other, slowly forming a top hat. “I call it ‘Dapperblook’.”  


Deciding that must be a pun on his name, I snicker. “It looks great!” I cheer. The ghost smiles at the praise, looking a bit sheepish. Aw, he’s so cute.  


“It was nice to meet you… I’m Nabstablook.” As Nabstablook fades away, I tell him my name. “I’ll remember you…” 

  


With a grin on my face, I continue down the Ruins. I avoid the spider bake sale, shivering at the implication that the treats are made of spiders. _Gross._  
I run into some frog monsters, named Froggit, and a small bat-like monster named Whimsun. She seemed really meek, so I left her alone. There were quite a few more puzzles along the way, but if they used spikes to block my path I simply walked over them. I mean, no one is going to know, right?  
As I maintain my pace, I come across a large tree. As I ponder how a tree could grow underground, Toriel spots me.  


  


_Shit._

  


“Alexia! What are you doing here?” She rushes over to me, a stern look on her face. “The Ruin are dangerous to traverse alone.”  


I feel offended. I made it just fine, didn’t I? She just thinks I’m out there to try and find a weapon or something. I snort. _Like I’m some ruthless animal?_ “I wasn’t going to hurt anyone, Toriel.”  


“Is that truly the first thing you think of when I tell you not to stray too far?” Toriel glares at me. Oh, she really doesn’t like me. Well, I don’t quite enjoy her company either now, do I?  


“No!” I shout, and Toriel flinches. “But you’ve made it quite clear you don’t trust me much. You constantly kept an eye on me, didn’t let me train with the dummy, scolded me for ‘wandering off’ like a child, and now you’re trying to get me to live with you in the Ruins! I’ve had enough!” I push past Toriel, determined to find a way out of here.  


I feel a sudden wash of heat, and see that Toriel’s hands are burning. I recoil away, staring at her, tongue-tied. I messed up. I messed up _bad._  


  


“You are not to leave the Ruins. You do not understand; even if you are not a menace to monsters, everyone shall assume you are. Our king, Asgore, will kill you if you dare exit this place.” Toriel warns. I glare at her defiantly.  


  


“He’s gonna kill me? Well, you’ve threatened me with fire _twice_ in the _same day,_ so I’m willing to bet you’d probably kill me, too.” I hiss. Toriel looks at me like I just struck her, and I continue. “I haven’t done anything to indicate I’m a danger. I’ve treated every monster with as much kindness as I could, never attacked anyone, and the most I’ve done to be ‘rude’ is question monsterkind on biology. If anything, you’re the danger!” I shout, my frustration turning to anger.  


Somewhere deep down I feel a need to shut my mouth and apologize for being so nasty, but I push that down. “You threatened me at so much as a glance after finding out I’m an adult. Even as I was cowering in utter terror, you continued to believe that I was some kind of tormentor sent out to erase monsters from the mountain.”  


  


I finally take a deep breath, trying to calm myself. My throat hurts from hollering so much, and I swallow. I feel the corner of my eyes burning with unshed tears. Toriel looks broken, her head hanging and her paws down at her sides, no longer burning with their hateful fire.  


“I am truly sorry for my actions. I… I am sorry. I’ve been judging you based on the humans who sealed us here, long ago.” Toriel bows her head in shame. I stand tall, my hands shaking. I’ve never blown up like that… it felt powerful.  


  


I take in a shaky breath, thinking. Clearly, whatever happened was horrible. Not only has the term ‘monster’ never been even thought of on the surface world, but two monsters I’ve met first reaction to a human was to attack them (though, Flowey was more sadistic). Maybe if I knew the monster’s side of history, then everything would make sense. Maybe, if I know what Toriel has been through, then I can understand her actions. Maybe, if I understand, then she can trust me. Maybe…  


“How about you tell me about monsterkind’s history?” I request, and Toriel’s head shoots up. Her brown eyes are glistening. Shit, had she been crying? “If I know that, then I can better react to future encounters.”  


Toriel nods, her fluffy ears drooping more than usual. “I had wanted to bake a pie for your arrival, to… apologize, for how I threatened you.” Toriel smiled softly, though it didn’t reach her sad, tired eyes. “We can eat it as I explain it all.”  


  


Had she really baked a pie…? For me? I stare at her, dumbfounded. There’s still a bitter part of me that believes that she baked it to gain my trust, and I can’t prove it wrong. But, with the way Toriel is looking at me with such guilt… I decide that eating it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.  


“I’d like that.” I smile, though it’s just as fake as Toriel’s.  


  


_I don’t trust her._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our protagonist does not take that shit.
> 
> *glances down at notes for next chapter* *sweats profusely*  
> I hope y’all are ready for “Exposition: the Chapter,” ‘cause that’s what we’re about to get. _(And there totally won’t be another big plot point that’s very much ignored, eheh...)_


	3. The Under Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexia and Toriel have a talk. A pleasant talk. With absolutely zero morally questioning topics, the reopening of long-broken wounds, or a dissatisfying goodbye.
> 
> Toriel also informs the voice beyond the door about Alexia, but, psh, he’s not plot-relevant. Who cares about that guy?

Toriel cuts a piece of the pie away and gives me my plate. It’s fresh, and it smells absolutely divine. I’ll say what I want, but Toriel’s baking skills are unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I stab the desert with my fork and take a small bite. Cinnamon and butterscotch. I never thought those two flavors would taste so nice together. I hum in contentment.  


Across the table, Toriel looks nervous. I don’t blame her, we’re about to have a pretty serious conversation. She waits for me to swallow, and then takes a deep breath.  


“Monsters have been trapped Underground for thousands of years.” Toriel begins. I nod, though that much time sounds like far too long. The mountain isn’t that big, at least not enough for an entire species to live under. “We’re trapped inside here by a powerful spell, called the Barrier.”  


“A spell?” I ask, wanting an elaboration. Toriel nods.  


“Long ago, before monsters were sealed underground, a few select humans could use magic.” My eyes must’ve held my wonder, because Toriel added, “Without monsters to expose and guide humans to magic, the genetic trait ended up disappearing.” I breathe out a sigh of relief.  


“What led up to monsters being sealed?” I ask. Toriel pauses, before taking a long sigh.  


“Monsters are made of magic. I’ve told you this, correct?” I nod. “Our magic comes from our souls. Generically speaking, monster souls are much weaker than human souls, simply because our souls expel most of the energy they create.”  


I think for a moment, before asking, “Are all souls purple, or do the colors mean something?” Toriel considers this before answering my question.  


“Monster souls are all the same: upside-down white hearts. Human souls come in a vast variety of colors, but we’ve only been able to research six.” Toriel flinches at her words, before shaking her head. “Purple souls carry the trait of perseverance.”  


“Perseverance.” I repeat. I suppose that makes sense. Curiously, I ask, “Are there other traits that you know?”  
Toriel nods with a smile. “There’s also orange, for bravery. Yellow stands for justice, and green is for kindness. There are two different blue souls: light blue and indigo. Light blue souls are very patient, and indigo souls have a high amount of integrity.”  


“That’s every color of the rainbow,” I note, then pause. “Except for red.”  


Toriel slumps slightly, glancing away for a moment. Is there something wrong with red? Oh, I bet red is a bad trait. “Sorry, where were you going before we got into the topic of soul traits?”  


That seems to snap Toriel out of it. Suspicious. “Yes, anyway. As I had stated, monster souls are much weaker than human souls. Human souls are strong enough that they can persist, even after their bodies have long become dust. If a monster were to wish it, they could absorb the human’s soul and gain immense power.”  


I sense the train of thought before it hits me, so I cut off the impact. “The humans were afraid of monsters because of that?” Toriel nods solemnly. “But, if monsters can use magic,” I muse. “Shouldn’t they have won whatever kind of war took place?”  


Toriel looks surprised, though I’m not sure why. “Alexia, while monsters may be able to use many types if magic, we do not have much physical capability. Our bodies, composed mostly of magic, are damaged by our attacker’s intent rather than brute force.”  


“Intent.” I blink. “Like, murder intent?”  


Toriel swallows thickly and nods.  


I bite my lip. So, not only did the goat monster decide that I was dangerous based on species and age alone, but she also wholeheartedly believed I’d have enough hatred inside me to kill an innocent in cold blood. Toriel must’ve sensed my anger, because her shoulders tensed.  


“Listen, dear.” She advices. I inhale and dig my nails into my arm. It gives a small sense of stability, so I nod to show I’m here. She sighs. “Humans had won the war without much effort, and monsters were sealed underground. About one hundred years ago, a human fell into Mount Ebott. A child, named Chara.”  


For some reason, the name sends a pit of dread to my stomach. Not in the way I expected, but rather in a ‘something terrible is going to happen’ way. It wasn’t because I saw the memorials in town… no, this was… deeper.  


“At the time, I was the queen of the Underground. The king and I had a son named Asriel.” I don’t like the past-tense. I really don’t. “When Chara had fallen into Mount Ebott, Asriel had found her huddled into a ball under a large hole in the cavern ceiling. We had adopted her immediately, once we found that she could not return to the Surface.”  


I open my mouth to protest that you can’t just adopt a child like that, but Toriel raises a paw to shush me. “Chara repeatedly said that she didn’t enjoy the Surface. It was clear that she hated humanity.”  


I… really don’t like where this is going.  


“Chara was a wonderful child. She was sweet and caring to Asriel, and she had the most gorgeous eyes. She was a bit foul-tempered, and was prone to fits, but we loved her all the same.” Toriel smiles, her eyes clouded with nostalgia. The pit in my stomach grows. “Asriel and Chara were inseparable.”  


She goes quiet for a moment, her smile fading.  


“After a couple of years, Chara fell ill,” Toriel’s voice breaks and it looks like she’s about to cry. “We never figured out how or why. They just got sick one day. Started puking up blood after a few days. No one knew how to help her; not only was the sickness from an unknown source, but she was human. She… she died, in the middle of the night.”  


I’m shaken. I don’t know what to say.  


“I… I can still hear Asriel begging for her to wake up. Everyone did. He… Asriel was devasted.” Toriel’s eyes are watering, but her voice remains steady. “Before she died, she told us that she wanted to see the golden flowers from her village.” I swallow, knowing exactly what golden flowers she’s talking about. “Asriel… absorbed Chara’s soul in his grief.”  
I don’t know… I… the poor kids…  


“He crossed the barrier with his and Chara’s soul power, holding Chara’s lifeless body. Asgore and I,” She was married to Asgore. I file that information away, sure that she didn’t mean to let that slip. “We both had no idea if he’d come back. He… he did. Injured, with stab wounds and battle scars. As soon as he crossed the barrier, he collapsed into the garden and turned to dust…” Toriel sobs, and I let a few tears fall down. Not from grief, not from sorrow… anger. Humans were sick.  


“I understand.” I murmur, looking down at my pie. I… I can’t eat this. Not after that. “Do you mind if I put this into a container?”  


Reeling in her sobs, Toriel shakes her head. She points to a cabinet next to the refrigerator. I thank her and turn to place my slice of pie into a plastic box. I cap the lid, and place it on the table.  


Toriel looks so… broken. I feel a little bad, yelling at her now. Seeing her like this… I gag from the part of me that didn’t trust her. She’s just a grieving mother, she… but… she did judge me based on race.  


I’m unsure what to do, so I place a comforting hand on Toriel’s shoulder. “I… I have to get going. I can’t stay at your place forever, and I…” Why was I trying to leave? No, I’m not, I just… need a real home. A real home. “It’s just too cramped here.” I’ve already said the lie, I can’t turn back.  


Toriel shakily nods before quietly saying, “There is one more thing…”  


We lock eyes, showing that I’m listening. Since when did I teach my stomach gymnastics?  


“In his anger, king Asgore had declared war on humanity.” Toriel’s eyes are filled with disgust, and hatred. But, deep down, there’s a spark of regret. For what, I’m not sure. “You should get rest, it is late and you should be prepared should you step out where Asgore’s citizens will easily find you.”  


It is? I look out the kitchen window, expecting to see the moon, but finding empty cavern walls. I sigh, frowning. “It’s hard to tell. But, yeah, now that you mention it, I’m exhausted.” I yawn.  


“There is an unlabeled door in the hallway, right of the front door. You may rest there, and I shall pack your things.” Toriel suggests, perfectly calm. I frown, wondering if the calm nature is simply a façade.  


“That’d be great, thank you, Toriel.” I turn in the direction the goat mother pointed me to. Just before opening the door, I call. “Hey, Toriel?”  


“Yes, dear?” She speaks softly from the kitchen. Just like a mother should treat her child…  


“I’m sorry.” I close the door behind me, and rest in the bed.

* * *

 

Toriel rests by the door, emotionally spent. She awaits the knock on the door, for her friend to talk to her. She can’t believe she’s about to do this, she can’t believe she’s about to ask someone of this.  
“Knock knock.” His voice calls. Toriel smiles wearily.  


“Who’s there?”  


“Robin.” She can hear his smile.  


“Robin who?”  


“Robin you. Now hand over the cash, old lady.”  


Toriel lets out a bark of laughter, despite herself. She knows the greatest knock knock joke to give back. She knocks, and, holding back laughters, says, “Knock knock!”  


“Who’s there?”  


“Cash.” Toriel giggles.  


“Oh-hoh? Cash who?” His voice challenges, as if the joke wasn’t already in effect.  


“No, thank you, I prefer peanuts.” Toriel giggles through the door, and she can hear her friend’s chuckle. She sighs. She hopes that she can keep this up after her request.  


“Hey, somethin’ up?” He asks. Ah, he was always perceptive, wasn’t he?  


“No, no, I just…” Toriel looks up, gathering her strength. “If you’re this close to the Ruins, then you must be… a guard, right?” She guesses, stalling.  


“Actually, i’m a sentry.” He chuckles. “It’s way less work, y’know?”  


Toriel’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You are a sentry? That will be much better.” She declares, happy that she won’t be risking a heavy job position.  


His voice comes through, confused but calculating. “You got a problem with guards?”  


Toriel shakes her head, and then remembers that he can’t see her. “No, I’m perfectly alright with them. I… I’m afraid I must request something of you.”  


She hears shifting outside, and Toriel recalls that outside the Ruins it is very cold. She should pack some coats for Alexia. “I’m all ears.”  


“I know it must sound crazy, but,” Toriel sighs, deflating. “If a human ever comes through this door, then… I would like you to protect them. Watch over them, will you not?”  


There’s a long silence, then, “That’s kinda a heavy question.”  


“I know. Oh, believe me, I know. I just… I’ve made a mistake with them, and they won’t stay. They… I just need to know someone will be looking out for them. That I can, at the very least, trust that you will not kill them on sight.” She doesn’t know if she should explain that the human in question is an adult.  


“What do you mean, you ‘made a mistake with them’?” He sounds genuinely curious, if not a tad bit angry. Toriel isn’t sure if her friend is mad at her or Alexia.  


“I’ll be honest with you,” Toriel breathes. “They’re an adult, my friend. Despite their age, I don’t know if she can survive out there on her own. She doesn’t understand magic, and she claims didn’t even know monsters existed until she came down here. Not even in stories.”  


The silence is longer this time. Toriel decides to explain further. “I _know_ that everyone believes that adult humans are horrid, but this one? She’s not normal, she’s hurt. She doesn’t trust me at all, dear. She was trembling and afraid before I even revealed myself, and I could hear her screaming before I even reached the falling place.” Toriel takes a steadying breath. “Something is wrong, but I cannot ask what. And she refuses to stay, so I need someone to protect her.”  


The voice on the other side doesn’t say anything. It takes a really long time, but he finally, quietly says, “I promise.”  
Toriel laughs from her relief, a pressure on her chest releasing its hold. _Thank goodness,_ she thinks. “Thank you so, so much.”  


“No problem. Now, uh, what does a skeleton tile his roof with?”  


Toriel’s laughter rings through the hallway.

* * *

 

I wake up, my head aching. I remember having a very pleasant dream, something about a snowy forest. There were two monsters, I remember that, and they were really great. They might’ve been brothers, thinking about it.  


My headache pounds the longer I try to remember the dream, but I feel like there was something important there. I remember… darkness. And a child, wearing a striped sweater. For some reason, the color red comes to mind.  


Sighing, I get out of the bed Toriel allowed me to sleep in. Maybe I’m worrying about it for no reason. I snort. _Maybe?_ I snark in my head. No, I definitely am. I’ve always made mountains out of mole hills.  


I shake my head with a slightly pained smile.  


_“It’s time to go.”_  


**Ĭ̵̢̭͚͋̀̈́** remind m̸͖̏y̵̹͌s̸͚̉ę̶̓l̵̬̑f̷̣̿, with a faint sting running along my eyes. I push open the door, ready for anything life tries to throw my way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good thing Alexia is pushing forward of her own will!  
> Hm? The distorted words at the end? What are you talking about?  
>  _There’s nothing there..._
> 
> Story edit (minor): Fixed up Toriel’s speaking habits. A commenter reported than, canonically, Toriel doesn’t speak nearly at all in the way I portrayed her.


	4. Chilled to the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alexia meets two skeletons. Monsters? Skleteton-monsters?  
> “Who cares, we’re up for some hijinks.”

I was not prepared for this.  


Jesus, when Toriel advised me to wear a coat because it was cold, she could’ve explained that were was literal snow outside!  


I feel a shiver run down my spine. “Damnit.” I mutter. The one thing I hate the most: cold. And what do you know? It’s freezing temperatures out here. For a split second, I wonder if I should turn back and get Toriel to come with me. I shake the thought away quickly; I shouldn’t burden her after I just reopened all of those emotional wounds. I pried way too much last night.  


Taking a sweep around the area, I see that I’m in a snowy forest of sorts. The tall trees are almost foreboding, and the narrow path is anxiety-inducing. I turn to my left to see a bush. Without much else to do, I examine the floral life of the area. I poke it.  


“Ah, this is indeed a- wait.” My sarcastic quip is cut off by the sensation of something cool and metal. I pull on it, and find a camera. Oh.  


“Oh, okay, sure. That’s totally not creepy, that’s fine.” I ramble, trying to decide if I should break it or not. Well, I’m a human, and who knows who could be watching me. Playing it safe, I pull the battery out of a switch on the camera’s side.  


I’m gonna have to hide my identity as best as possible. Loosening the shoulder bag Toriel gave me, I open it up. A purple scarf to cover my face, a black hat (with a white puffball on the top) to hide my hair, and snow boots for the simple reason that I hate walking in snow. Putting on each article, I sigh as a small amount of warmth comes from the contact.  


“Creepy cameras, got it.” I just hope there won’t be creepy flowers. I’m really thankful I haven’t seen Flowey again by now. I turn from the bush and walk down the path.  
I turn around, heading off onto the path. I zip up my coat a bit more, shivering still. As I pass a stick, a sudden thought comes to me. It doesn’t sound like my voice. I don’t know whose voice it is, actually.  


_“Don’t run.”_  


It advices. The voice echoes in my skull, pounding each wall. The pain is annoying, distracting even. I hold my head for a moment before the words make sense.  


‘Don’t run’? From what? As I pass a broken tree branch on the path, I fiddle with my bag. Toriel hadn’t given me anything to defend myself with, so I had stolen a dull shovel from a rack in the living room. It couldn’t be enough to kill someone— not that I’m planning— but it should be enough to stun them for a moment. Unless they have some kind of magic ability, which, thinking on it, most of them might have.  


I’m pulled from my thoughts by a loud snapping sound. I turn on my heel and glare behind me, to find absolutely no one there. The branch I passed is broken into thirds.  


“Oh, I’m _so fucked.”_ I turn back around and speed-walk ahead. I can hear footsteps behind me, the snow crunching under my aggressor's feet. Alright, if I grab the shovel now there’s a likely chance that whoever is following me can disarm me. So, as soon as I grab it I need to turn around and surprise them.  


I skid to a stop, my shaking legs making it rather hard to stay still. My heart is pounding in my ears. _You’re wanted, you’re a human. They consider you a threat. Attacking them proves that._ Shit, that’s right. Damn my reasoning skills!  


My hand glides away from my bag, my spine still shivering. It’s so cold. I take a breath. “Are you going to keep following me?” I congratulate myself for not letting my voice crack.  


There’s no response.  


“Well, I’ll t-take that as a y-yes.” My teeth chatter as I speak. I’m weaker than my pursuer, with or without a weapon. _You’ll be unable to take a clear swing with your shovel, with your hands shaking so much._ Curse my cold intolerance.  


I continue walking, though I’m sure I’m leading myself like a sheep to a pen. I stop, thinking about that. Am I really being… herded? Shit, I am. I plant my boots firmly in the snow, defying every instinct inside me. No, I refuse to be killed so easily. Up ahead is a bridge, not very long, but it has bars which resemble a gate. _Like a sheep to a pen._  


_“Don’t run.”_  


The voice comes back, and I detect a hint of desperation before my head is throbbing again. God, this is way worse than last time. I bring my hands to my head, silently praying for the pain to end. Whatever the voice is, it really doesn’t want me to run. Towards or away from the pen, I’m not sure, but I’m willing to trust it.  


As the pain fades, I hear the footsteps behind me again. Getting closer. My hands tremble and close into fists. If I can’t use a weapon, I’ll use my bare, quivering hands. Just to get away, just to survive.  


_~”It’s a kill or be killed world, here! Remember that, human.”~_  


Yeah. Just to get away, not to _kill._ Never to _kill._  


“Human.” A deep, baritone voice calls out. My shuddering comes to an abrupt stop, as I freeze like ice. Their— no, _his_ voice is rumbling with his next words, a suppressed chuckle. “Don’t you know how to greet a new pal? Turn around and—“  


_“Shake his hand.”_  


I obey without thinking, my head splitting open. It hurts, it hurts and I want it to end, and if obeying the voice makes it end then I’ll try. I hold out my hand, though it takes a moment for the monster to take it. The pain recedes quick this time, allowing me to take in my vision again.  


He’s a skeleton- no, a skeleton ‘monster’. He’s actually kinda short, surprisingly enough, wearing a blue hoodie with a fur lining. _Oh, how nice a fur-lined coat sounds right now._ My shivers start up again, and I hold back a groan.  


The echoes of a sound resound in my ears, and I blink. Oh, that sounded like… a whoopee cushion. I fake an amused smile, not wanting to upset whoever this skeleton may be. The skeleton monster gives me a lazy smile of his own.  


“Heheh,” He chuckles, but I can detect an uncomfortable sound to it. I bet he wanted more of a reaction. I shuffle, glancing at the trees surrounding us both for a moment. “The old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. It’s always funny.”  


I smile at him, but I’m sure we both know it’s pretty fake. That one wasn’t as convincing… ugh, I’m off my game. “Mhm.” I tug my scarf closer to my face.  


“Anyways, you’re a human, right?” He asks. I narrow my eyes.  


“Well, if I’m not, then you just colossally fucked up, considering you were all like, ‘human, turn around’ and shit.” I spit, then instantly tense. _Shit, don’t antagonize the skeleton!_ The movement loosens my scarf.  


He seems surprised by my language, hiding an amused cough. “Yeah, I s’pose.” Okay, he seems alright with my attitude. I’m not alright with my attitude, though. I should start biting my tongue or something. “I’m Sans. Sans the skeleton.” He winks.  


...Is he fucking joking?  


“Did… did you seriously just…” I can’t even find words. Just… just… what…?  


He doesn’t seem to get what I’m confused by. “What, never see a guy wink before?”  


I shake my head. “You just… snapped a twig and followed me around… and now you’re gonna act all ‘buddy-buddy’?” I don’t even… how…?  


He… he isn’t phased? “Yup.”  


“Okay, Sans. Sure, giving my name doesn’t even matter, I guess. Alexia.” I rationalize my actions out loud. It’d be silly to keep my name low. Just in case, however, I tighten my scarf around my face. He notices this, I assume, based on how he pauses to check the action.  


“Nice to meetcha.” He finally says. “You know, I’m actually supposed to be on the lookout for humans right now,” He glances around. I straighten my posture, hoping to look intimidating. I then realize how short Sans is. A couple inches below me. “But I don’t really care about capturing anybody.” He shrugs.  


I’m not falling for that. “Oh yeah?” He nods. “So, out of curiosity, of course, the hell is this bridge?” I jab my right thumb to face behind me.  


Sans smile, which he’s been holding this entire conversation, seems to soften around the edges. “That’s from my bro. He made the bars too wide to stop anyone, but he really wants to capture a human.”  


Uh? “Hold up,” I raise my right palm in front of me. “You ‘don’t care’ about capturing humans, which I assume means killing me for my soul or some shit.” Sans looks startled by my knowledge, but nods nonetheless. I sigh. “But your brother really wants to capture me?”  


He nods, an entertained glint in his eye sockets. “That’s pretty much the situation, yeah.” He shrugs nonchalantly, and he looks like he’s about to say more. I pause him, pinching the edge of my nose.  


“So, you’re gonna help me sneak around?” I ask, glancing at his eyes. I can’t read him, damnit.  


“Who said my bro was gonna hurt’cha?” He asks, his arms open in a ‘what-up’ position. I glare, not directly at him.  


“You?” I guess.  


“Nah, my bro’s harmless. He’ll prolly just end up befriending you.” I snort. Sans glances at me, confused. I wave my hand in a dismissive gesture.  


“Well, okay. Sure. Lead the way, since you probably know it better than me.” I back up, gesturing to the gate with jazz hands. It makes sense. Surely not every monster is against humanity. That’d be insane. I’m just expecting _most of them_ to be. So far, Sans… he seems like he’d be a good body guard. Intimidating when he wants, cheerful and carefree everywhere else. Just gotta keep my guard up, of course.  


_Always keep your guard up._  


Sans shakes his head slightly, walking forward. I follow him at a safe distance. “I, uh, think I actually see my bro up ahead.”  


I sigh, a shiver riding up my back. “Great. Hm, a sentry station. Yours?” I turn to him. He nods. “Great, I’ll hide inside it. Wait for him to leave. Distract him or some shit, yeah?”  


It looks like Sans wasn’t expecting me to make a plan so quickly. I find that offensive. “Uh, yeah.”  


Walking past an oddly-shaped lamp, I settle in the snow behind the sentry station. Damn, snow is cold.  


I hear the crunch of snow. It’s different from the way Sans walks. It has a set, boisterous pattern to it. It’s new, energetic, and… purposeful. It stops. He stops.  


“Sans!” Ow, ow, my ears…  


“Sup, bro?” Sans greets casually. Damn, that’s good acting.  


“You know what’s up, brother! It’s been eight days and you still haven’t recalibrated your puzzles!” I’m assuming this is Sans’ brother. Okay, his footsteps had an organized energy to them. His loud voice makes him easy to focus on.  


He continues. “You just sit outside your station! What are you even doing?” Oh, Sans is lazy? I probably could’ve figured that out. Okay, Sans is lazy and his brother is energetic. Opposites. What else do I know about Sans…?  


“I’ve been decorating my station, bro. It’s pretty cool. You wanna look?” A traitor. Sans is a traitor.  


“No! I don’t have time for that!” I hear a loud, booming sound. A foot stomping. Sans’ brother is acting immature and childish, so naturally Sans must be rational and mature. It fits the pattern. _Patterns. Puzzles._ “What if a human comes through here?!”  


_Buddy, if you just look riiight over here, you’d find one._ I suppress an amazed giggle. “I will be the one! I must be the one! I will capture a human!” Hm… motivated. Motivated and lazy. Are these two really polar opposites? No way. There’s gotta be at least one similarity. I peek out from my station.  


Oh, Sans’ brother is tall. Sans is short. Damn. They’re both skeletons— holy shit, they’re wearing complementary colors. Sans is wearing a blue hoodie and his brother is wearing an orange scarf. _Holy shit._  


“Wow bro, sounds like you’re really working yourself… down to the bone.” Sans winks as he imitates the motion of a rimshot. Oh hell no. Don’t tell me this is their similarity.  


“Sans!” The taller skeleton scolds. I sigh in relief. “You’re not helping, you lazybones!” _No!_  


“Hey, I’ve gotten a ton of work done today!” Sans feigns indignation, glancing at me as he does so. “A skele-ton.”  
I duck back under the station, suppressing a groan.  


“Nyeh!” His brother makes a sound of utter frustration, and I hear him stomp his foot. “I’ll be working on my traps. As for your work? Put a little more…” _No c’mon don’t do it why—_ “Backbone into it! Nyeheheh!” He cackles as he walks off.  


“He’s gone.” Sans calls. I get up from his sentry station.  
“Good, good.” I respond, getting up from Sans’ station and rolling through the front of it. My feet thud against the snow (my scarf tumbles from my face), and I swiftly glance to where Sans’ brother came from. He’s definitely gone.  


“Did you relish my station?” Sans winks. His tone is playful, but… wait. I look back inside his station. Fucking condiments are decked inside. I look back at him.  


“That was a stretch.” I complain, waltzing up to him. I tighten my scarf back onto my face, lightly choking myself for a second. “Are we gonna see him again?”  


Sans nods, but comes to his brother’s defense. “Papyrus isn’t gonna hurt ya, no way.” _Because Sans is gonna protect me._ I mentally add.  


_“You can trust him, at least with this.”_  


Yeah, he at least won’t let someone else kill me.  


“Sweet,” I calmly state, ignoring the throbbing in my head. I grab his hoodie and push him forward. “Now, let’s get moving.”  


“Ok.”  


“So, move?” I instruct.  


“Ok.”  


Sans walks at a snail’s pace. I groan. “Move!”  


“I am?”  


He’s stalling for time. “For someone who is going to help me through the Underground until I can assure my own safety, you’re awful shitty at your job.”  


“Yup.” Damn it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is somewhat short. And cliché. But mostly short.  
> This chapter is in preparation for the next, which is almost complete as of the posting of this chapter. I’d be rude of me to make y’all wait to see how Alexia reacts to Papyrus, after all.  
> (I mean with how she and Toriel interacted anything could happen.)


	5. A Puzzling Situation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alexia (and Sans) walk through Snowdin, and is promptly invited over to stay.

“Just so you know, up ahead’s a member of the K-9 Unit.” Sans informs me. I snicker.  


“The K-9 Unit? What, is it all dogs?” I snicker harder when Sans nods, confusion written on his face. “Canine Unit, hehe.”  


“His name’s Doggo, and he’s got a special kind of magic.” I nod, silently urging him to get on with it. “Blue attacking magic.”  


_~”If you see a blue attack, don’t move and it won’t hurt you.” Sans informs you. You nod. “Thanks for letting me know!”~_  


The scene plays in my head, disconnecting me from reality. That… that’s not me. I’m not seeing through my eyes, I feel much shorter. _What…?_  


I reel back, my feet connecting with air and causing me to trip, a startled guttural sound ripping from me. I see stars for a brief second, the ringing in my head severe. _What was that…?_  


Inhaling, I lift my back from the snow, staggering upwards. Sans is eyeing me, a mixture of confused amusement and tentative concern on his face. “Blue attacking magic, uh-huh.” I exhale.  


“Just, uh, don’t move, and it won’t hurt ya.” Sans speaks slowly, spreading the words out as if it would take me a minute to understand otherwise. I nod, and brush the snow from my jeans. I shiver, and Sans winces at the motion.  


“Simple enough.”  


As both Sans and I pass a sentry station, not unlike his own, I see a dog head poke out from under it.  


_“Blue attacks. Don’t move.”_  


I freeze, the instinct coming naturally. Too naturally. My head stings slightly for a split-second as I complete the action. Did…? No, no I didn’t hear _it_ again.  


“Was someone moving? I can only see moving things.” Sure enough, Doggo’s eyes are shifting around the area like a blind man’s. Poor th- _guy,_ poor guy. “If something was moving, for instance, a human,” The word is laced with an unbridled rage. I feel something deep inside me reel its head, offended. “I’ll make sure it never moves again!”  


Doggo tucks himself in and rolls from his station, knives and blades in his paws. I tense, bending my knees down. My bag shifts with the movement. Sans is beside me, still, but with an odd energy radiating from him. His left eye light is flickering a soft blue. Magic.  


Doggo is in front of me, rising his sword to the top of my head. It’s a _sword,_ not magic. I need to dodge it before he swings down. Just as I’m ready to sidestep, the blade glows a deep, rich blue. It’s enough to leave me stunned, and Doggo swings the metal down through me. I shiver at the sensation of pure magic, and apparently the movement was large enough for the magic to detect.  


A sharp pain runs through me, and I bite down a yelp. My knees buckle, but I stand still.  


_“Don’t—“_  


_I didn’t move and it still hurt!_ My head reels as I blink rapidly. I suck in a breath, taking a swift glance to Sans. His left eye is flicking blue embers now, and I feel a soft weight pressing down onto me. It’s uncomfortable, and I’m finding it’s much harder to move. A _lot_ harder to move.  


_I can’t move._  


I feel something, thick and dark and horrid rise inside me. _I’m in **danger.** Sans has **betrayed** me, he’s setting me up for my death. **I’m going to die. Dying dying, dead.** _ I feel an intense need to move, to run, to fight back.  


_Can’t._  


“Was there someone there?!” Doggo barks, and I close my eyes. _**I’m gonna die.** Sans let someone else kill me. He technically protected me from Papyrus, so his job is done. **I shouldn’t have trusted him** — I didn’t trust him, though!_ The feel the magic run through my system, each of my nerves tingling. I stifle a shudder.  


_Lies, lies, I’m **dying.** I’m… dying?_ The darkness inside me creeps back down, and I exhale silently.  


Sans exhales as well, looking somewhat overwhelmed. 

I blink my eyes open as Doggo withdrawals his knives. “Maybe it was just my imagination…” He grumbles, slinking down from his fighting stance and truding back to his station. I reach inside my bag, grasping the hilt of a small, dull shovel, then softly shake my head. _There’s no threat, he’s leaving. He’s leaving._  


Nodding to Sans, I carefully stealth my way from Doggo’s line of sight. Sans is ahead of me, somehow, though I had passed him. _He protected me from my own movement. He protected me. Protection. Safety. Trust for safety? Yes. I trust Sans for my safety._  


“Flawed system. Just because I’m freezing doesn’t mean I should be vulnerable to magic.” I can’t feel my fingertips. Toriel hadn’t packed me gloves, so I simply shove my shuddering hands into my pockets.  


Sans shrugs, then his sockets seem to widen in realization. “Wait, are you seriously cold?” He sounds like he can’t believe it.  


I pause. Hm… well, I’m shivering. But I have multiple layers on, and generically speaking I’m fairly warm. But I can’t handle cold, and my body constantly shakes when I’m exposed to it. I shrug. “I’m not about to die from hypothermia, so you don’t need to worry.” It’s more of a comfort than an endangering—  


“But you’re cold?” He asks again, somewhat irritated sounding. Why?  
_He thinks I’m in danger from the cold. Cold means danger to humans, he probably knows that. He wants me to be safe. Assure him that I’m safe._ I rationalize.  


“Uh… no? I mean, yeah, I’m shivering like mad and I can’t feel my fingers. But under my winter coat, thick wool scarf, cotton hat and snow boots? Perfectly warm.”  


Sans blinks. “Oh.”  


I shrug, raising my arms in the gesture. “I’m perfectly healthy, if that’s your concern.” It should be, all things considered. But, eh, why not knock out all concerns? “You’re not gonna have to hand me over your hoodie, either. Wouldn’t want you to. Looks super comfy.”  


Sans chuckles. “It is.”  


“Hm… oh, an ice lake. Sweet.” I smile, skipping over to it. “There’s a sign. Hold up, I got this,” I say, straightening my glasses. It looks like directions. The only one that doesn’t just say ‘ice’ is to the East. “Snowdin Town, huh? You and Papyrus live there?” I turn to Sans, who is currently inspecting the northern path.  


“Yeah, s’nice house.” Sans reminisces.  


“Cool,” I respond simply, and walk around the ice lake to get to Sans. There’s a single snowman up on the path. “Huh, that’s strange. I wonder who built that?”  


Sans shrugs, his eyes contemplative. He pauses, glancing over to me for a split-second, and then turns to the eastern path. “My bro’s up ahead, he’s got a few puzzles.”  


“Ah.” I nod.

  


Well, he wasn’t wrong.  


“Oh my god, Sans, when is the human showing up?” Papyrus is clearly giddy, hopping from foot to foot. Sans looks amused at his brothers antics, looking up at him with brotherly admiration. Nngh, okay, let’s do this.  


“Right now!” I call, waving my right hand. Papyrus jumps (roughly two feet in the air, pretty impressive) and snaps his body to me, his head following swiftly. Sans follows, more casually than his enthusiastic brother.  


“Oh my god!” Papyrus launches himself into some kind of rant on how popular he’s going to be. Aw, he’s narcissistic? Damn, here I thought I might enjoy his compan—  


_Don’t trust him._ Damn, old habits die hard.  


I sweep my gaze around the area. There’s nothing, though there is a square where the snow has been pushed aside. A battle arena, maybe? Nah, that’s not a puzzle.  


Papyrus clears his throat (what?) to get my attention. “Ahem, I believe you will find this puzzle… quite shocking!”  
Electricity. No visible puzzle… an invisible maze. “Oh, okay.”  


“You see, this orb,” Papyrus holds out a blue, transparent crystal-like ball. “Will administer a hearty zap if you wander into a wall. ‘What walls, Papyrus?’ You are asking.” I’m not, I understand the concept fine. “Well, you see, human, the walls are completely invisible!”  


“Interesting concept,” I compliment him. He visibly lights up. Sans looks proud, though I’m not sure of who. Probably his brother. “Well, I’m going to need to hold the orb, first. Right?” I hold out my right hand, careful not to trigger the shock by accident.  


Papyrus nods eagerly, and I take a bit of time to inspect the area around me. Surely, this ‘puzzle’ isn’t just repeatedly injuring myself? There has to be…  


Papyrus treks through the maze, twisting directions in an obvious path.  


...some kind of…  


“Hold this, please!” Papyrus places the orb in my hands, while I remain still. I look at the snow. Footprints are visible. Papyrus follows the exact path, without triggering the electric shocks.  


...hint.  


I stare at the footprints, easily visible in the snow. _Follow in his footsteps._ A smile breaks out onto my face. Did he mean to turn that metaphor into a pun? It’s clever. I carefully walk the path Papyrus gave out to me, making sure to take every step exactly as Papyrus did.  


I exit the maze and turn to Papyrus. “That was,” I glance at Sans. Still can’t read him. “...great.” Both of the skeleton brothers look pleased, albeit for different reasons.  


“Nyeheheh, I knew this would be too easy for a human as smart as you!” Did he just _compliment_ me? Why did he… he’s supposed to capture me! What-?! “So I’ll just have to make an even more dastardly jape, so incredible even you won’t be able to solve it!”  


I blink, and Papyrus leaps off. A cloud of snow puffs up in his wake, and I shield my glasses with my hands. Powder still manages to get onto their clear surface. I sigh, and take them off to clean.  


I can hear Sans stifling his laughter as I struggle to clean the the right lense. I hadn’t noticed when I first found them, but apparently there’s a thin crack in the straight middle of the glass. The powdery snow just won’t come out!  


_You know what? I don’t even care._ I place my glasses back on with a sigh, a spot in my vision blocked off. I tighten my scarf around my face, and pull my hat further down onto my head. “Don’t let word get out that I’m human,” I order once Sans has regained himself. The tops of his eye sockets crinkle inwards in what I’m assuming to be confusion. “Being hunted for my soul. Gotta keep off the radar.”  


“So you trust me and Paps to keep that information?” Sans implies, and I shudder at the word. Trust. My mind reels to avoid it. _I’d_ believe _you wouldn’t destroy your own reputation. I_ hope _you’ll stop Papyrus if he gets too eager._  


“Sure,” I lie. His gaze pierces into mine, and I break the eye contact he tries to make. “C’mon, can’t keep Papyrus waiting, right?” I walk up to him and tug on his sleeve, trying to get him to walk. He complies with my request, and I inwardly sigh.  


“Yep.”

  


“Wait, so if I keep playing Ball then I’ll just win infinite prize money?” I look up at the purple flag that was raised. _Purple, huh? Just like my soul... And then there’s that darkness, but..._ happy thoughts. Right.  


“I guess if you play infinite times, then yeah.” Sans confirms.  


“One ball gets me 2G each. That’s low, right? What’d one Nice Cream cost again?” I turn to Sans, grabbing the two gold nuggets along with my celebration note. _‘Even when you felt trapped, you took notes and achieved the end of Ball.’_  


“15G.” Sans replies easily, still holding his sweet treat. “Oh, hey, I do look pretty nice today.”  


_15G. So I’d have to play this game eight times for an ice cream. Not the best way to profit._ “It always gives 2G each time, right?” I ask, focusing on the purple flag which was now lowering into the hole. Man, magic is weird.  


“If you get a different flag color, it might give you more.” Sans informs. I fold my arms.  


“What’s the most it can give?” I look back to where the large snowball originated. Back in it’s usual place, somehow. With the same size to boot.  


“I once saw a red flag, it gave 50G.” Wait- _if a Nice Cream costs 15G, you could buy four Nice Creams with one win._  


“50G?!” I hiss, scrambling upright. “That’s insane, that’s… probably impossible to get. How do you get a red flag?”  


To my absolute infuriation, Sans shrugs. “I dunno, the kid was just real good.” There’s a weird tone that was used in that sentence. For the life of me, I can’t figure it out. There’s a far-away aspect, like he’s remembering ‘the kid’ fondly, but there’s also a strange bitterness to it. I frown.  


“Weird.” I say aloud, glancing at the Ball with a shiver. “Well, I’ll have to come back here, when I’m not an outlaw.” I make sure to say the last bit quieter, more to myself than Sans.  


He nods, holding the remains of an eaten Nice Cream. How did he… can his jaw open? It has to. But I’ve never seen… I’m leaving those thoughts where they are. I can see the train of thought, and I’d rather not get there. “C’mon, my puzzle is up ahead.”  


“Spare me the sarcasm.” I reply sarcastically. There are two outcomes to “Sans’ puzzle.” One: he didn’t take it seriously, and made it simple to help me. Two: he wants to impress his brother, so he took it seriously and the puzzle is a threat. Considering the personality traits I’ve assigned to him, one seems much more likely than two.  


Well, I’ll have to wait and see.

  


“Sans, where is the puzzle?” Papyrus asks, puzzled (shit no). I have to agree, there doesn’t appear to be anything here. Unless it’s yet another invisible maze. Maybe this one won’t be an analogy on following examples.  


“It’s right there, on the ground,” Sans gestures to a piece of paper in the snow. Huh, that wasn’t there a second ago. Was it? “Trust me, there’s no way the human’ll get past this one.”  


Walking carefully, I pick up the paper. It’s a word search. I look up from the paper, rising an eyebrow at Sans. He’s smiling as lazily as ever, if not a bit mischievously. Alright, looks like theory number one checks out.  


Well, Papyrus is too ecstatic-looking to refuse. Don’t wanna disappoint the monster that’s trying to jape me into entrapment. Even if he’s doing a horrible job.  


“No pen?” I complain. Sans blinks. Hold up, where did those eyelids come from how does a skeleton blink—  


“In your hand?” He tilts his head, shit-eating grin in place. I look down. With the paper, I’m also holding a pen. I didn’t pick up a pen. _Teleportation magic? Sweet._  


“Alright then.” I shrug, picking up my right leg. I rest my right foot on my left knee, making my balance unsteady but giving me the chance to write on the paper. I stumble, but continue to write in this position.  


“You could just sit down in the snow,” Sans suggests. I glare up at him.  


“Snow’s cold.” I state. He nods, ‘ah’-ing. I look back down to my puzzle.  


It doesn’t take much time, considering I’ve already made a strategy for these since fifth grade. Find letters in the word of your choosing, and memorize a small string. Look for that string, and _surprise!_ You find it in, like, three seconds because your brain recognizes patterns.  


“Done,” I say, looking up. I toss Sans the paper, and he surprisingly catches it. Without wind, that’s probably expected, but it sure as hell surprised me.  


“Excellent work, human!” Papyrus happily praises me.  


_Excellent work? What am I, a student?_ My eyes narrow in clear offence, but I quickly correct my expression into a (fake) proud smile. Sans nods as he checks over the paper, looking up at me as I chat with Papyrus.  


“It, uh, wasn’t as good as your puzzle…?” I guess, uncertain. I can feel myself being judged. Papyrus lights up, and Sans nods. Okay, okay. Praise Papyrus, demean Sans. Got the system down pat.  


“Why, thank you human! I know that I am very great!” Definitely the correct response.  


“You sure are!” I agree, though I struggle to keep my smile genuine. People like this…  


“But, of course, you are very great as well!” Papyrus happily exclaims, and I stop. What? Did I hear that right? Surely, I heard that incorrectly. Papyrus praised me?  
“U-uh, huh?” I manage to voice my thoughts in a very mature way.  


“Yes, you are very great! You solved that puzzle very quickly!” Papyrus compliments me. I blink, stunned. Did I judge him wrong? Was my judgement wrong? I check my mental list. Papyrus is narcissistic? No, no, Papyrus is obviously _confident,_ and _positive._  


But if that’s correct, and my running mental joke of Papyrus being the perfect opposite to Sans is _somehow true,_ then Sans is…  


...well, good thing that’s just a joke.  


“I- thank you!” I beam, for the first time perfectly genuine. Papyrus is truly great. He’s a good person. I can tr… Papyrus is tru… I like Papyrus, there we go.  


“Nyeheh, you’re very welcome, human!” He keeps calling me that. Should I tell him my real name…? Nah, this is fine. “Now, to more puzzles! Nyeheheh!” Papyrus cackles, rushing off. I raise my hands in front of my glasses and jump backwards, narrowly avoiding a snow cloud.  


Sans is not as lucky.  


“Pfft- dude, you’re covered in snow.” I giggle, staring at him. His hoodie, usually a nice blue color, is now coated in white, powdery snow. His skull is somehow lighter than normal as well.  


Sans simply sighs and dusts off his face. He shoots a cheeky glance my way, shit. “Guess it’s karma’s payback for that snow line on your glasses.”  


I groan, and grab his sleeve. “You ruined it, now we have to get moving before you can tease me.” I clear my throat before continuing, noting that I might be getting too comfortable. I should dial it back a bit. I mentally place a barrier between me and Sans. “What’s up ahead?”  


_I shouldn’t get too close,_ I remind myself. _He’s my bodyguard, not my friend._  


“Paps made some spaghetti. Uh, he should put it up ahead.” _Should?_ I blink, and glance over at him as we start walking.  


“Should? Does he do this often?” I guess. I shouldn’t misjudge, I already did so with Papyrus.  


“Yeah.” There’s an insistence in his tone that shouldn’t be there. He’s lying. I’m suddenly struck with a wave of suspicion. Is he a bad liar, or is this just one occasion where he’s relatively bad at it? I file the questions for later-me to deal with.

I don’t notice the concerned glances he sends my way as I harden my expression. _Liars can’t be trusted._

  


There was frozen spaghetti.  
There were more puzzles.  
There were dogs. Easy-to-avoid dogs.

  


“Y’know, since you didn’t do so well with Doggo, I’ve been thinkin’.” Sans had started.  


I wave my hand in a circle, silently goading him on. 

”Instead of trying to face monsters with magical weapons that you aren’t prepared to defend yourself against,” Sans’ tone is light, but there’s something off. Something like regret, but not for me. No, that’s more distanced. I don’t get too much of a chance to dwell on it. “Howza’bout we try an’ go around them?” 

“Mph, we gonna do a stealth mission?” I guess, just a small bit sarcastically.  


“Uh, yeah?” Sans tilts his head, and I cross my arms and give him my best _‘we could’ve done this from the start’_ look. He narrows his eyes, and glances away. “Look, I’ve memorized the K-9 Unit’s patrol schedule, so I know how everything goes around here.”  


“Handy,” I comment, then add, “It’s real lucky that you did that. What, have you been expecting me?”  


Sans blinks, and then shakes his head. “Maybe. That’s not important. Do you wanna get into another weaponless fight against creatures made of magic?”  


“No, so let’s do some stealthy crap.”

  


We had indeed done some stealthy crap. We snuck through snowbanks, (which Sans titled ‘snow poffs’), teleported through paths (which I had easily deduced Sans could do from his word search/pen magic), and avoided certain paths. I spoke less to strangers, careful to keep my scarf and hat tight on my head.  


There was a strange protest in my head, some part of me begging for me to go back and meet them all. I really didn’t care what it had to say in the moment.  


...Was the protest the voice? It must’ve been.  


Should I have _trusted_ it?  


While we were walking through a icy path, through a rather dense forest, he had quietly asked what I was doing in the Underground.  


I had remarked that really just wanted a safe place to stay.  


“Would you like to stay with me and Paps?” Sans suggested. I flinched back, stumbling on the ice.  


“Dude, Papyrus wants to capture me!” I remind him, my voice raising slightly. I tighten my scarf around my face.  


“Nah, he’s super _cool._ He’d probably be alright if you _chilled_ with us for a day. He thinks you’re an _ice_ pal.” The barrage of puns left me speechless. I wordlessly nod, and his eye-lights grow. “ _Cool._ ”  


“Stop that.” I growl, and Sans chuckles.  


“C’mon, kid, let’s tell the good news to Paps.” I grumble, but still nod. I’m getting a _temporary_ place to stay with the skeleton brothers.  


_...Sans trusts me to be in his house…_  


...I don’t know how to respond to that thought. I disconnect from reality, not responding to the sudden vertigo feeling. I don’t know how I got to Papyrus. I give robotic replies and answers to Papyrus’ questions. _He’s happy,_ my droning mind notes. _That’s nice._  


…  


...I end up taking a nap on their couch. I’m pretty sure Sans had caught on to my disconnection at some point, if the way he glanced at me as I got onto the couch said anything. Papyrus was exclaiming about how he needs to make some ‘welcome spaghetti’. I smile, closing my eyes.  


...I’m filled with dread. I’m getting close to them. I felt safe while walking with Papyrus and Sans to their house. I didn’t even conceptualize Snowdin Town. I just kept following.  


Sans _trusts_ me to be in his house, _with Papyrus._  


That’s good news. So why do I feel so afraid? So frightened by the mere idea? Why do I hate that word so much? I should love the word ‘trust’! I shudder just thinking of it. I should be excited for this chance, to meet Papyrus more often. To ask more things, to learn about monsterkind. I should… I should be happy.  


I fall asleep with a frown on my face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my original plan, Papyrus was going to invite Alexia over, but... well, Papyrus is currently in his mindset of ‘capturing a human means I’ll be cool and popular!’ Alexia’s going to have to fix that, fairly soon.  
> Obviously, Papyrus is still sweet and loves having Alexia over as a guest, but he’s gonna call Undyne soon if no one stops him. And Alexia is _not_ prepared for Undyne, at all.


	6. Illusionary Investigations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Alexia meets the voice inside her head.

I wake… up?  


I bl- no, no I don’t blink. I don’t do anything; I don’t have a body. _I don’t have a body!_ I can’t focus on anything; is there anything? I can’t hear, can’t see, can’t feel warm or cold. I can’t feel solid ground under my feet, but I don’t feel like I’m falling either.  


There’s _nothing._  


As I try desperately to grasp the mere idea of there being absolute zip around me, I can hear something. One of my senses is working, thank god. It sounds… it’s the voice, actually. But I feel no pain as it speaks.  


_“Can you hear me? Did I mess up?”_  


For the first time, I can recognize the voice as young. No discernible gender, but they’re definitely extremely young— maybe even a child? The words have a tonation of worry.  


I can’t speak, can’t even breathe (though I no longer feel the instinctive need to), but I muster up enough focus to think coherently. _“I can hear you. Who are ‘you’, exactly?”_  


_“My name’s F̶r̵i̵s̷k̶, I’m a, um, child. I’m kinda… stuck. Here. In your soul, I mean. This is your soul.”_  


_F̶̶̷r̶̵̸i̶̵̸s̸̷̶k̷̶̵, huh?_ They sound nervous, almost tense. I mean, I’d be tense too if I was trapped in someone’s soul. Speaking of which…  


_There’s a child trapped in my soul. A_ child. From the sound of their voice alone, I’ll never be able to tell if they’re human or not. But they’re a child, stuck. In this? This nothingness?  


_“How the heck did you get stuck in my soul?!”_ I end up shooting at them, a discomforting feeling washing through me. This is weird, really weird. I’m in my own soul? And so is some random kid, F̶̶̷r̶̵̸i̶̵̸s̸̷̶k̷̶̵. Somehow. It feels like I’m consciously unconscious, if that makes any sort of sense.  


_“I don’t really know. But I do know that I can’t get out, and that we both kinda depend on each other. For now.”_  


I… just, there’s a child. Trapped. Inside me. What? _Okay, okay, focus. Focus._ Me and this child depend on each other. _“How so?”_ I ask them to elaborate.  


_“Ah, well… you’ve seen your soul, right?”_  


_“Yeah,”_ I answer, trying to remember exactly what my soul looks like. “A demonic flower pulled it out of me.” Briefly, I can almost picture my soul in my head. But then I feel floaty and strange, unable to fully form the image, and forget it.  


_“So… you’ve seen the dark spot in it?”_  


I try to nod, but I cannot perform the motion. F̸̶̵̶̵̷̵̖̦̟͙́̉̏͝r̸̶̸̵̸̸̵̢͖̺̝̐͐̂͒i̴̶̸̵̸̸̷̫̳̭͇̊̔͠͝s̴̸̷̷̴̶̷͇̘̣͚̅̽̑͠k̶̷̴̶̷̵̴̭͉̱̝̓̔̾͘ seems to get me, despite this. Maybe they could sense it, since they’re in my soul? _God,_ that’s so freaky.  


_“And the red hue?”_  


_“Yeah.”_ I respond, my thoughts blurring. I need to stop trying to find logic; I can do that outside of here. When I’m not in a weird nothing-dimension.  


_”The red is my soul, overlapping with yours. I, um, know Toriel didn’t tell you, but the red trait is Determination. It’s actually a combatant for your dark-thingy.”_  


Their language almost makes me laugh, if only I had the ability to. ‘Dark-thingy’. _Definitely a child in there._ Determination? _“...What’s the dark line represent?”_ I ask eventually, deciding that’d be a good place to start. _It’s definitely not good._  


_“I… I think it’s Pain? Something negative. Maybe it’s just Negativity. Sorry, I kinda forgot that one. Black’s called a lot of stuff.”_  


Yeah, not good.  


I probably should’ve expected that F̸̶̵̶̵̷̵̖̦̟͙́̉̏͝r̸̶̸̵̸̸̵̢͖̺̝̐͐̂͒i̴̶̸̵̸̸̷̫̳̭͇̊̔͠͝s̴̸̷̷̴̶̷͇̘̣͚̅̽̑͠k̶̷̴̶̷̵̴̭͉̱̝̓̔̾͘ wouldn’t know much. _“So, you help with my, uh, Pain, how?”_ Pain. Well, I’m assuming that’s not just physical. Or maybe it is? Negativity is a way better name, I can understand it.  


_“My Determination is blocking it from spreading too much. I don’t know what’ll happen if it spreads a lot, but I guess it wouldn’t be good.”_  


_“Well, with a name like ‘Negativity’, how bad can it be?”_ I joke, and am rewarded with a rush of… something. It reminds me of a giggle, oddly enough. It’s sweet, bubbly, and positive. Like a dopamine rush.  


The feeling fades, and I’m left with myself again. I need to keep asking questions. I don’t know how long F̷͎̔̽̄ŗ̴̢͊̒͝i̸̩̦̜̓͂͝s̷̞̖͝k̸̩͚̾͐͋ can do this, and we both have no clue how this could affect us. _Be productive. “F̸̷̵̸̵̵̶͎̔̽̄ŗ̶̴̷̴̴̷̷̷̢͊̒͝i̶̸̸̶̶̷̴̴̴̩̦̜̓͂͝s̷̷̷̸̷̴̞̖͝k̶̸̸̴̷̸̸̶̩͚̾͐͋, you said we both depend on each other. How do I help you?”_  


F̷͎̔̽̄ŗ̴̢͊̒͝i̸̩̦̜̓͂͝s̷̞̖͝k̸̩͚̾͐͋ doesn’t speak for a bit, presumably thinking. With nothing for my senses to focus on, I’m left in a temporary absent spot. I cling to my sanity before Frisk speaks (thinks?) again.  


_“I dunno for sure, but I think you’re helping me. Somehow. Like, if you were to go, my soul would do_ something. _Maybe fade away. I mean, there’s gotta be a reason I’m only a weird light-echo.”_  


That leads nicely into my next question, but not before I process that answer. This kid depends on _my survival,_ for their _basic existence._ That’s **terrifying.** Especially for a kid. _Stay productive. “Kid, do you remember anything from before… this?”_  


_It could help save you,_ I don’t add.  


_“Um, yeah. I’ve… been in the Underground before…”_  


They sound hesitant. The ‘area’ around me actually radiates hesitance, making me hesitate before asking, softly, _“Did you get out?”_ A subtler way of asking ‘did you die?’ with the opposite intention.  


_“Yeah. I did.”_  


_So they can help me find safety._ Oh, I hate how selfish that sounds. _But not before I help them get out of my soul._ There, that’s better. “How? Isn’t there a barrier here?”  


The hesitance grows, before becoming almost unbearable. I can’t even think, _I’m too afraid of the consequences of my actions. What if they get mad? What if they don’t believe me?_ Wait, that’s not me… is that F̷͎̔̽̄ŗ̴̢͊̒͝i̸̩̦̜̓͂͝s̷̞̖͝k̸̩͚̾͐͋?  


The feeling fades as I hear a soft confession.  


_“I could time travel.”_  


_“What?!”_ I shoot out, cutting open a brief second of sight. A yellow shape, a diamond/star glowing in complete darkness. I almost feel my fingers before I’m plunged back into blindness.  


_“I could reset time, back to the very point I fell into the Underground. But only if I… died…”_  


This kid has died. This child has experienced death, multiple times. This young, frightened human has experienced the end of life itself so many times that they can say it casually as if it’s an average Tuesday.  


What.  
The.  
Fuck?  


  


_“F̸̷̵̸̵̵̶͎̔̽̄ŗ̶̴̷̴̴̷̷̷̢͊̒͝i̶̸̸̶̶̷̴̴̴̩̦̜̓͂͝s̷̷̷̸̷̴̞̖͝k̶̸̸̴̷̸̸̶̩͚̾͐͋, what?!”_ I yelp in my head, feeling a sudden feeling grasping me. Suddenly, every single one of my senses is active. It’s almost overwhelming. I can see cool, earthy soil beneath me illuminated by a soft indigo glow. I can hear rushing water, a soft electric sensation through my fingers, my brown hair licked by moist winds…  


Brown?  


Instantly, I realize that this is not me. This is F̶̀ͅr̶̲͌i̷̻̇s̷̫̋k̸̙͛, and as I’m taking in the world through F̴̻̏r̵̪̤͐i̷͍͍̋͒s̸̹͊́k̵̞̀̊ͅ’̶̙̯͒̓s̶̖̖̍̚ eyes I feel a sharp pain in my newly-acquired abdomen. F̴̻̏r̵̪̤͐i̷͍͍̋͒s̸̹͊́k̵̞̀̊ͅ’̶̙̯͒̓s̶̖̖̍̚ eyes look down, and are met with a magic energy spear covered in their blood, protruding from their stomach/hips and into the dirt below.  


They fall limp, and then my senses are cut down.  


  


_“That was the first, caused by Undyne.”_  


I just **died.** I just felt the **pain** preceding **death.** This is **death,** that was what **dying** felt like. If I had a body, or any sense other than the sound of Frisk’s tender voice to focus on, I would’ve felt sick. Nauseous.  


But I can’t. And I’m grateful for that.  


_“Kid, don’t do that when I’m awake,”_ I warn them. I feel a tentative curious feeling prod me, and I can almost see the inquisitive head tilt F̸ ̶r̴i̸ ̴s̵k̷ tried to give me. _“Memories. Especially death memories. We’re gonna make a new rule. Only swap memories when we’re asleep, okay?”_  


_“Okay.”_  


Their quiet agreement makes me… happy, not smile. Pure emotion. They quickly speak again, this time a bit softer.  


_“You should probably wake up now. I’ll help you get out, and we’ll see how much time passed. And, um, if our conversation took a few hours, we might have to make this… um…”_  


It sounds like they’re looking for a word. I provide one, _“Minimal?”_  


_“Yeah! You’re smart.”_  


Aww, that’s so sweet! I feel a bit too glad to hear that. But it’s so adorable, they sound so excited to find a new word to play with! But, no, we have a plan. _“Yeah, this is unexplored territory. We should test it a few times before having in-depth conversations, to make sure it’s safe.”_  


_“Alright.”_

  


I wake up, remembering Fr̴i̵sk̶’s voice and speech clearly. Not knowing if these details will soon leave me, I make a mental list and form a mantra from it. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I slept. I’m having issues remembering where I even am… no, that doesn’t matter. _Frįsk._  


I speak aloud, trying to keep each detail in my head. “There’s a child trapped in my soul. Their name is Frisk, and they can manipulate time when they die.” I repeat the sentences, over and over and over again.  


I’m not sure how long I kept repeating that, but eventually I was cut off my the creaking of a floorboard. I lose focus, the memory of the dream long gone but the mantra still kept inside.  


Where am I? Where did that sound come from? I’m in Sans and Papyrus’ house… for the… night…? Fuck, that’s right. Is it night or morning? Did I seriously pass out like that? What even happened?!  


I blink, no details coming to me. Should I ask… ask Frisk…? But, no, someone is here. I can’t. I need more details before I involve someone else. And _I can’t trust anyone with Frisk._  


_Be casual. Be casual? How?!_  


“Wh… what time is it?” I ask lamely, feigning tiredness. I don’t hear a response, but I hear more floorboards creaking. Are there burglar monsters? Why not? They’re still people, and people can be horrible.  


Shifting off the couch quietly (and wincing at the jangling sound it makes), I carefully grab my bag. My dull shovel is still there. It’s warm in here, I’m not shaking. I get a steady hold on my weapon, and stand straight up. I glance my eyes around the dark room, unable to see anything but the couch beside me and two glowing dots by the stairs…  


Oh, it’s just Sans. “U-uh, hey.” I keep my tense posture, but lower the shovel non-threateningly. Keep the trust going, keep his trust going. “How long did I… sleep… for?” I did sleep, I feel somewhat rested. Somewhat.  


The two lights brighten a bit, and I realize they were rather dull before. Was that exhaustion? “Oh, hey. It’s pretty late.” Mhm, that’s Sans. His voice is more rough than usual.  


“Ah.” I state, looking down at my shovel. I crouch down and place it delicately over my bag, careful not to make too much sound. “You startled me, so I figured I, uh, should be prepared?”  


“For what?” His tone is humorous, but… something’s off.  


“Just… I dunno, burglars? Robbers? Murderers? Human hunters?” The last one sounds more likely than the rest, oddly enough. Didn’t Sans say he was supposed to be on watch for humans…?  


“Weird list, but I got’cha.” The right eye-light disappears for a brief moment, which I assume means that Sans winked. God, it’s really dark in here.  


I shrug, darting my eyes around the room. “Was awake, kinda needed something like a blanket? Where would those be, uh, if I could take one?” Do skeletons need blankets? Shit, do they even feel cold?  


“Right over there.” _Dammit Sans I can’t see._ His eyes aren’t even pointedly looking anywhere, just at me as usual.  


Wait, his eyes are literal lights.  


Does he…?  


“Do you have night vision?” I blurt, staring intently at the white dots. For a brief second, they contract, as if I startled him by speaking. But they come back to their usual size afterwards.  


“Heh,” He chuckles. His eyes brighten slightly as he makes the soft sound. “Why’d ya think that?”  


“I can’t see jack shit in here, dude.” I claim, then bite my lip. Probably should watch myself. And my volume. Was that loud? Where’d my scarf even go?  


_“Papyrus made you take all that off when you came in, when you were zombified.”_  


Frisk informs, and my head stings. I bite into my lip harder, trying not to wince incase Sans does have brighter sight than mine. I’m briefly startled by the metallic taste of blood, but Sans starts up again, lifting me from the flashback that was begging to be released.  


“Huh. Weird. Here,” I hear the sound of slippers shuffling on carpet, as Sans comes closer. His skull is visible, and the vague silhouette of his form is visible as well. His left eye burns blue for a moment, an ember flying off before fading away. “There.”  


I feel something thick, warm and soft fall into my head as my world is covered by darkness. I yelp, then cover my mouth. It’s late, people are sleeping. “Dude!”  


As I struggle my head free, I hear Sans’ chuckle again. It’s girthier than usual, louder. I glare at him, softly gasping at the fresh(?) air.  


“Good catch,” Sans mocks. I glare harder.  


“Well, thanks…” My appreciation trails off, my thoughts turning in my vivid state. I’ve mentally marked Sans as my protector, and Sans said he’d watch over me… but have we ever made an agreement about that? We should, especially since I’m currently sleeping at his house. “Hey, wait a second.”  


Sans, who had been turning to rummage through his kitchen, glances back at me. “Yeah?”  


“So, I’d like a more formal agreement on this whole ‘protect this random human you just met’ operation you’ve started.” I say lightly.  


Sans shrugs. _This isn’t the kind of thing to shrug about._ “Ok.”  


“So,” I hold out my hand. “You’ll be sure to protect me from potential threats to my health and/or safety. I’ll… well, I’ll let you add your terms to this deal.”  


_...What is Sans getting out of this, anyway?_  


Sans glances down at my offered hand, then locks eyes with me. They’re bright, aflame with a mischievous glint. _Shit, I’ve made a horrible mistake._ “You’ll respect and honor my glorious puns and pranks.”  


The worst possible price to pay. I smile politely, the deal fair. “Deal.”  


We shake hands, a farting sound echoing throughout the empty living room.  


_“We’re safe.”_  


For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy I’ve been writing and rewriting this scene ever since I came up with this story.  
> This, while a reveal, is not the main reveal of the story. Trust me on that one; that’ll come much later.  
> This is a plot point; an important plot point that needs to be introduced early on or else nothing will connect smoothly.


	7. Getting Situated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexia spends some time with the skelebros, and her little soulmate.

I wake up, again. For real.  


To a very ecstatic Papyrus looking over me.  


And an adrenaline rush from avoiding monster-attacks in nightmares.  


I flutter my eyes, trying to register the situation at hand. Papyrus is standing over me, and I have slept over at his and Sans’ house, at Sans’ invitation. Papyrus wants to capture me, and has found me on his couch. **_Vulnerable._**  


I immediately tuck myself inwards and roll to the floor, narrowly dodging absolutely nothing. Acting on my unaware, half-asleep instincts, I rush to my bag and pick it up, darting out the door.  


It’s cold. I stumble backwards inside. To Papyrus.  


“Hello human Alexia!” Papyrus greets cheerily as if nothing had just happened. _I’m too tired for this optimistic friendly bullshit._ “I made you breakfast spaghetti!”  


_“Don’t eat it.”_  


Frisk speaks with such horrified insistence that I’m almost sent into a panic attack. What the hell is wrong with Papyrus’ spaghetti?! The ringing in my head really doesn’t help, either.  


I hear Sans’ chuckle from the stairs above, and I blink.  


“Okay. Yeah, breakfast spaghetti.” I agree sleepily, rubbing my eyes.  


_“No no please not again.”_  


I blink harder, rubbing my eyes furiously. Under my breath, I whisper, “Kid, we agreed that you do that sparingly.”  


_“This is an emergency you do NOT want to eat that I SWEAR.”_  


I’m detecting sparks of terror in their voice now, but mostly I’m detecting the fucking migraine they’re putting on me. I remind myself that they’re a kid, and are probably going to insist until I pass out unless I agree. Kids are awfully determined, especially kids like—  


~ _”The red is my soul… the red trait is Determination.”_ ~  


Well, the pain has definitely increased to migraine-levels of bad.  


This kid is _killing me_ with this pain. The least I can do is eat some spaghetti to spite them.  


Am I seriously about to spite a ghost-child that’s trapped in my soul, whose life I depend on to survive? Yes, yes I am. And I’m gonna fucking destroy them.  


“Well, I’m sure it’s great.” I grin politely at Papyrus.  


I waltz into the kitchen and sit at the table in the middle of the room. My eyes, shamefully, are immediately drawn to the towering kitchen sink near the corner. _Holy shit, if I were to stack two mes on top of one another I’d barely come up high enough to turn it on._ Thank you brain, very insightful thought to have.  


“Nyeheh, I can see you marvelling at my wonderous display of a sink!” Papyrus boasts, and I snap my gaze to him. I should be paying attention to my host. “I remodeled it myself, so I could fit more bones under it!”  


Why would you…? I shake my head, my false grin forming back onto my face. “Good for you.”  


As Papyrus spoons spaghetti onto a plate, I wonder what the hell I’m doing. _This is temporary,_ I remind myself. _No way in hell I’m..._ trusting _Papyrus…_ My thoughts pause. I hadn’t fully trusted Sans (with my survival _only_ ) until just last night. But now there’s a promise built between us, and I can hold onto that. Papyrus seems to be a skeleton of honor, definitely not one to break his word.  


I need a deal.  


“Nyeh, here you are.” Papyrus shifts a plate of spaghetti in front of my face, breaking my thoughts at their conclusion. I hadn’t realized before, but I’m starving. _When did I last eat?!_ My stomach growls as if in agreement. Papyrus looks down at me, and I can’t decipher his expression for the life of me.  


I shrug it off, grabbing a fork and twirling the pasta around it. Is the sauce glittering? “Do you cook often?”  


“Nyeheheh, of course I do!” Papyrus boasts proudly. “Cooking is the second-most passionate hobby, as Undyne says!” I nod, inspecting the twirl of spaghetti on my fork. It really looks like the sauce is shining. Magic, maybe?  


“Can humans eat glitter?” Sans asks from outside the kitchen. I look up from the sauce, deciding that yes, it was glittering. But not from magic.  


“Uh- no, no they can’t.” But damn if I wasn’t gonna try. Gotta make nice with my host, after all.  


“Well shoot, Paps. You can’t feed the human- woah, what the—?” Sans’ quip is cut off as I shove a mouthful of spaghetti into my mouth. The texture is outright wrong. The noodles are raw, both slimy and hard. The sauce is goopy, with chunks of what I assume are leaves mixed in. And there’s glitter, so much glitter.  


I swallow it, disgusted. I try my best not to make a face. I try for a smile, but it comes as a grimace. “N-nice… th- _ack-_ at’s good.” I can still taste the glitter between my teeth. Papyrus looks beyond happy, despite my obvious distaste for his cooking.  


“Wowie! No one’s ever taken that large of a bite before, on the first one no less! You must really enjoy my cooking!” I blink at Papyrus’ enthusiasm.  


I nod, wordless, unable to speak. I… I’m going to barf. Barf rainbows, probably. I hide my face in my hands and mumble into them. “Frisk, you were so right. I should trust you more often, god. Don’t answer, my brain is still reeling.”  


“Hey, uh, I think Alexia’s had enough for one day.” Sans calls. _Breakfast is done. Now’s the time for business._  


I immediately take my hands my head, scooting up and grabbing Sans’ by the hoodie as I walk from the kitchen. As soon as I’m out of sight from Papyrus, I murmur quietly to him.  


“Papyrus.”  


“Yes, that is his name,” Sans nods, shit-eating grin plastered onto his face.  


“Papyrus. Capturing,” I pause, waiting for Frisk’s input.  


_“Royal Guard.”_  


My head stings, the sign of Frisk. I search through the static for comprehensible words. My face pales as my eyes widen. I’m staying with a member of the Royal Guard?! No, no, he can’t be… “...is he in the Royal Guard?”  


Sans snorts. I glare at him. “In training.”  


I sigh, releasing my grip from Sans. “Have you told him not to… ‘capture’ me?” _Or take my soul. Or outright kill me. Or maim me. Or beat me. Hell, let’s add ‘turning me in’ to the list, too. Wordplay is a speciality, likely not just Sans’._  


Sans grins. “I had to tell him _way more_ than just that.” Huh. I was right.  


I nod, with the information that Sans has told Papyrus to stop. I’d like information directly from the source. I walk back into the kitchen.  


“Human Alexia, what were you doing with my brother?” Papyrus questions curiously.  


“Scolding him for making such horrible puns,” I lie proudly.  


“Hey!” Sans shouts from the living room. I snicker as Papyrus continues without interruption.  


“Nyeheheh, good job!” Papyrus cackles.  


Now or never. “Hey, Papyrus?” I ask, rubbing my heel on the wooden floor. He looks down to me, tilting his head to the side. “Are you still planning on capturing me?”  


_Put my guard up!_ I hiss to myself, steeling my expectations. _**He doesn’t care** for me. His job is more important._ My expression fades and my eyelids droop slightly. My lips thin as my eyelids settle down.  


Papyrus gasps audibly, and picks me up. I squirm, unprepared, and kick at Papyrus’ ribcage. He lets me go, and I land on the ground with an audible thump. Papyrus gasps again, offering a hand. “Oh my goodness! Human, are you okay?!”  


I was **hurt.** By **Papyrus.** I grit my teeth, standing up myself. **Careless.** “M’fine. Are you capturing me or not?” My tone is harsher than I expected, and I swallow.  


“Of course—“ _Knew it._ “—not!” _What?_  


Papyrus comes in for a hug, and I back away. He stands there, with his arms awkwardly hung out, before he lowers them. I cross my arms around myself. “Why not?”  


“Sans explained to me what’d happen if you were brought to the Capitol.” Papyrus hangs his head low, his voice riddled with shame. “Nyoohoo, I didn’t know it was so cruel!”  


I tilt my head, trying to appear inquisitive. I need Papyrus to outright state what’ll happen. I need him to _face_ it. Because if he doesn’t, he’ll _ignore_ it. And if he does… “What happens?”  


“I would’ve never captured you if I knew your soul would be taken, I promise!” Papyrus says frantically.  


I cover my mouth, pretending to be shocked. But I knew, I can fill in blanks. _Six soul traits were recorded. A magic barrier spell. Asgore harvesting human souls. Absorbing souls._  
_Souls can break the barrier. Human souls._  


~ _”Seven. Seven souls are needed to break the barrier.” Undyne explained, materializing a spear. “Seven souls will set monsterkind free.”_ ~  


I desensitize at Frisk’s shared memory, resurfaced from its dreamy state. Seven souls, and Frisk was the seventh human. I let out a soft chuckle. And, technically, I’m both the seventh and eighth.  


“Please forgive me human,” Papyrus attempts to make eye contact. I look through him. “I never intended to harm you.”  


“That’s weird,” I say aloud. Papyrus looks up, a confused expression on his face.  


“Nyeh…?”  


“You act like you care about me.” I’m genuinely curious how Papyrus could possibly care more for _me_ than his _job,_ his _fame._  


Papyrus looks positively perplexed at my words, his arms twitching. I glare at him, an odd feeling bubbling inside me. I don’t know where it’s coming from, but I feel like Papyrus shouldn’t care about me.  


“Why?” I spread my arms out. “What makes me so much more important than everything you’ve been working to achieve?” I frown slightly, wondering if I’m playing with fire. _I shouldn’t tempt him into—_  


_“Papyrus would never turn you in.”_  


I wince slightly, and Papyrus seems to notice my sudden pain.  


“Alexia, do all humans feel… pain?” Papyrus asks, his voice unusually quiet.  


I pause. My mind reels to find a quick excuse. _I’m on my period— no, he’s a skeleton monster man, he won’t understand. I have a headache? Stupidly cliché, I’m sure. My soul has a deep, dark fracture inside of it that’s likely draining me of my energy? Nope, that’s way too much information._  


“I ate glitter,” I blurt. For a split-second, I don’t understand Papyrus’ expression. As I study it, it clicks. And as soon as it clicks, time freezes. Because that expression is one of **disappointment.**  


I have brought **disappointment** to Papyrus.  


**I’ve disappointed Papyrus.**  


And, god, it _hurts._  


It’s like having a scabbed-over wound ripped open and disinfected, but left without stitches to bleed out. _Disappointment._ I. Have. Disappointed. Someone. Else. **Again.**  


Time starts once more, but I am unable to hear Papyrus’ words. Only his expression, so upset. So saddened. His voice is ringing, louder. And his face turns _anguished._ And I feel like I just was stabbed in the chest, his upset face dancing in my vision.  


I stumble, both hunger and emotion tolling on my physical body. I glance up at Papyrus, his voice coming clearer.  


“I cannot believe I’d harm my new human friend like this!” He screeches. My heart stops. Friend. _Friend._ And I disappointed him, made him _upset,_ in his _own home._ How can he call me a friend after _one day? How can he trust so easily?_  


I barely even register that Papyrus is still talking. “I need to make some apology spaghetti, _without_ glitter! Pronto!”  


My face rapidly pales, my soul pulsing in a sudden hit of self-loathing. _Why don’t_ I _trust so easily?_ The question brings up memories I’m not ready to deal with, and I quickly push it all down. I offer Papyrus a fake smile. So, so not ready.  


“Don’t worry, Papyrus! I’m gonna be fine.” My voice cracks on the word fine. I feel my stomach turning on itself, and I’m reminded that I haven’t had breakfast. I can use that. I can use that as a ploy for comfort food. I can use that as an excuse to get away from Papyrus. I can…  


_“Calm down.”_  


Frisk’s plea brings me stability, my mind quieting. Everything is going to be fine, I just need to eat right now. I can deal with all of this later. _I just need to eat. I can deal with this later._ I use it as a mantra as I settle next to Sans, my face returning to its usual tan hue.  


“All of that,” I sigh, the words holding more than I’d like to admit. “And I don’t have any food.” I look to Sans, my suddenly exhausted face making an effort to turn upwards in a playful smile.  


Sans pauses, studying my expression. I try my best to harden it, not wanting him to know of my weakness. I can’t, I really can’t let him pry. Because he’s going to leave the wound open and unattended.  


_Like I did with Toriel._ My mouth twitches, almost turning downwards into a frown. _She threatened me. It’s fine._  


Sans keeps staring at me, his eye sockets somewhat narrowed. I keep my smile on my face, hoping I can persevere until his judgement is over. I can’t let the wound reopen. Not… not ever. “Hold up,” Sans holds up his left hand, and winks the same side’s eye. I blink, and he’s gone. I sigh.  


“Wonder where he went?” I muse. Why wouldn’t he explain where he was going, anyhow? I should start telling him to do that. So I can find him in a crisis, of course.  


After a moment of listening to Papyrus humming some kind of tune while he bangs pots and pans together, Sans teleports back inside holding a paper bag.  


“What’s that?” I ask, over the ruckus in the adjacent room.  


“Grillby’s. Best burgers in the Underground.” Sans grins, handing me the bag. It smells like greasy fast food. No, scratch that. It smells like heaven.  


“Burgers for breakfast?” I rise an eyebrow at Sans questioningly, though to be honest I’d accept anything. As long as I can drown out the residual stress that was threatening to come back up.  


He shrugs. “Could’ve got cinnamon buns. But…” Sans holds up his hands in a vague gesture. “ _Grillby’s._ ”  


I roll my eyes as his antics, unwrapping a burger inside paper. Carefully inspecting it, I find lettuce, thin tomato slices, a glob of ketchup, cheese, and meat. No pickles or onions, just the way I like. I take a bite.  


Oh _hell yes._  


I don’t have words to describe the utter perfection that is this burger. The meat is simmered and juicy, the cheese melting hot, the lettuce pleasantly crunchy, the tomato taste subtle… oh, it’s all so good. I make a pleased sound.  


“Good?” Sans asks, amusement clear in his tone.  


“Yeah…” I say around my bite, swallowing it. For just a moment, as the food settles inside me, I forget about it all. I’m simply eating a burger, nothing more.  


_This is bliss._

  


Luckily, the next few days are rather uneventful. Hazard-wise, I mean.  


I’ve learned a bit more about Papyrus. He’s a truly innocent monster. He really does see good in everyone. He… he really, really likes his friends.  


Especially Undyne.  


~ _”Oh, Undyne is the absolute greatest! You two would get along splendidly!” Papyrus exclaims while stirring… the sauce… of something. I recognize the name, and shudder. Papyrus doesn’t catch it, too focused on his cooking._ ~  


~ _”What’s Undyne like?” I ask, though I have an idea from Frisk’s shared memories. The name is familiar. And the spears. Definitely the spears._ ~  


~ _”She’s very passionate! She loves sparring, and training. She fights for what she believes in, and she yells. A lot. Maybe more than me!” I giggle at Papyrus’ comment. “She’s a really protective friend. M.K.,” I don’t know who M.K. is. “Almost tripped and fell down a bridge, and Undyne caught him just before he hit the ground. She then proceeded to lecture King Asgore on why bridges need railings. For three hours!”_ ~  


~ _She can talk to Asgore. The king of all monsters. She’s in a powerful position. She has power. ”She sounds pretty… dangerous.” I mutter underneath my breath._ ~  


~ _”What was that, Alexia?” Papyrus turns away from the pot. He probably shouldn’t do that._ ~  


~ _”Just excited for this pasta, Papyrus.” I smile politely._ ~  


~”More like terrified.”~ 

~ _My grin widens for a split-second. Me too, kid._ ~ 

~ _”Nyeheheh!”_ ~

  


Sans, while constantly annoying me with his puns (which I’m ‘obligated’ to laugh at, according to him), is a pretty chill guy. Like I expected, he goes to ‘work’ only to slack off at his station (what else would he do? _I’m_ his job). I went with him one day, and the two of us chatted about inconsequential things.  


What I enjoyed most about the Surface.  


~ _“You know how the Surface has seasons, right?” I ask, looking back at Sans. He nods, with a look on his face as if to say_ ‘how would I NOT know that?’ _I smile._  


~ _“So, in Winter, all trees lose their leaves. But in Spring, they start to grow again. Little flowers— cherry blossoms is what they’re called— start growing on the branches.” I sigh, looking to the roof of Sans’ station, lost in the memory. “They’re so… beautiful. Metaphorical, in a way. Like, even after the coldest and bitterest of Winters, those moments of beauty will find their way back.”_ ~  


~ _“Wow,” Sans breathes. “Sounds incredible.”_ ~  


~ _“It really is.”_ ~

What Sans would like to see, if he ever managed to get there.  


~ _”The stars, no question.” Sans answers without missing a beat._ ~  


~ _”Really?” I ask._ ~  


~ _”Yeah. I’ve always been fascinated by ‘em.” Sans answers, completely honestly. “We have this one area, called the ‘Wishing Room’. There are crystals on the ceiling, that’re supposed to resemble ‘em. Don’t think they do.”_ ~  


~ _”I wouldn’t know. I’ve never actually seen them. The stars, I mean.” I admit, and Sans stares at me like I’ve gone insane. I mean, I_ might’ve.~  


~ _”How would you…?” He shakes his head. “Don’t tell me. S’too depressing.”_ ~  


~ _”I’ve seen pictures and paintings of them!” I exclaim. Sans shakes his head._ ~  


~ _”It’s never like the real thing.” He mutters. It nod, agreeing._ ~

How my life was on the Surface…  


~ _”Not horrible.” I lie. “I was always surrounded by good people, especially my dad. He was…” Like Sans. Always telling puns, joking about things, but there was always that serious side to him. “Well, you would like him.”_ ~  


~ _Sans nods, but it looks like something is bothering him._ ~

How life is in the Underground…  


~ _”Crowded.” Is the only thing Sans says. But it feels like there’s so much more that he could say._ ~

Sans is a pretty cool guy, I’ve found.  


  


_“We can trust him.”_  


Frisk speaks to me as soon as I enter the nothing. The nothing, not a great name. I suppose it’s just my soul. But it doesn’t feel right, calling this empty void my ‘soul’. It feels like an insult.  


_“With what? You? I know you two were friends, but he isn’t a science guy, Frisk.”_ I sigh. The two of us aren’t getting anywhere, and I haven’t been asking enough questions in daylight. I haven’t been doing enough. _Like usual._ I feel a stab of pain, and sigh. This keeps happening, ever since Papyrus made than damn upset face!  


_“There’s gotta be something we’re missing, kid.”_ I proclaim, my frustration getting to me. _“Did you ever talk to someone about your timey-wimey bullshit?”_  


That deafening silence comes again. The silence, my blindness, the nothingness, it swallows me up. I focus on making myself talk more, explaining, hoping that Frisk will give me their voice soon.  


_“Surely, you must’ve trusted someone. You like Toriel a lot, all of those mother-memories and all.”_ If I could, I’d be making gestures with my hands. I don’t have hands, though. _“But I don’t trust her, not right now. Not after those fire hands… no, there’s gotta be someone else, right?”_  


My proclamation goes unnoticed, my question unanswered. I conjure a mental sound, my exasperation bubbling into my words. _“Frisk, we have to communicate here!”_  


_“Sorry, I just… I don’t know.”_  


They don’t know?! _“You said you remembered everything, even after multiple resets!”_ I hiss at them.  


_“I-I do! It’s just… it’s getting harder to think clearly.”_  


Those words freeze everything. Nothingness. What would staying here for hours on end do to a child? Nothing to feel, to touch, to hear. You can only speak, and every time you dare utter a sound the person keeping you afloat is injured.  
I clutch my sanity like a literal lifeline. Praying for Frisk to elaborate. Because I sure as hell am not letting that statement go.  


_“I’ve been trying to remember last timeline, since that’d make the most sense to look at first.”_  


They finally speak. _“Have you found anything?”_ I question.  


_“No.”_  


Their blunt response confuses me. Why wouldn’t they remember anything?  


_“For some reason, I’m only finding bits and pieces. It’s like some of my memories were cut out. We were on the Surface, not for the first time.”_  


_“You’ve freed the monsters multiple times? Why would you reset after that?”_ I ask. Surely this kid didn’t play with people like toys, right?  


_But power makes people forget their morals,_ I remind myself. _Power feeds corruption._  


_“There was a specific someone… no, I can’t lie. It was Flowey.”_  


I feel cold. Coldness, spreading throughout my entire being. Is this what a shiver feels like to a soul? It’s… so cold. The feeling fades, like everything else in this cursed place. _“Flowey,”_ I near-whisper.  


_“Y-yeah. He was a prince, a goat monster named Asriel.”_  


What?  


_“No, Asriel is dead!”_ I shout back to Frisk. He can’t be... be that... that _thing!_  


_“His dust spread across the garden. One of the flowers was injected with Determination, giving him the will to live. He doesn’t have a soul.”_  


I hear an intake of breath. Frisk can breathe? In here?  


_“I kept trying to give him mine.”_  


I wake up from the shock. Just like every time I wake up, it’s sometime in the middle of the night. And just like every time I wake up, I can hear… something in Sans’ room. This time, it’s pen on paper.  


The sounds of tearing and scrawling lull me back to…  
The nothing. The null. The nil. The blind, the deaf, the mute. It’s **all** here. But **nothing’s here** at all.  


_“Sorry, I could’ve been more… tactful? With that.”_  


_“Yeah, you could’ve.”_ I agree. _“But… Frisk, you can’t give up your soul!”_ I scold them. That’s a horrible way of thinking!  


_“I… I think I did, last timeline.”_  


I can’t focus my thoughts in order to form a sentence. It’s simply a constant scatter of ‘how’s and ‘why’s.  


_“Not to Asriel.”_  


_“Flowey.”_ I manage to correct. That heathen is nothing more than a bother. A nuisance. A weed on a lawn, a leech on people’s lives. It can’t have held power, ever.  


_“Right, um, Flowey.”_  


They sound uncomfortable. I feel myself overreacting, my temper flaring. Flowey cannot be the same as Asriel, Flowey is a manic flower, and Asriel… Asriel, as Toriel put him, was a sweet prince. _Flowey is soulless! “You can’t pity it!”_  


_“I… yeah. Flowey, he’s not the point. The point is, I think I gave up my soul to save_ you _.”_  


My brain spins. It’d make sense; their time travelling powers, their Determination to save me, soul absorption… I try to think back to when I began to fall.  


~ _And then I feel a darkness swallow me._ ~  


~ _It’s all-encompassing. Endless darkness, everywhere. I open my eyes. Still dark, huh?_ ~  


Was that… this place?  


_“I think I felt myself get transported here. When I was falling.”_ I slowly explain, processing the information as I talk. _“But… if that’s the case, how did I reset? And how did I get placed back here?”_ There are too many questions, not enough answers.  


_“My soul was probably shattered when you died.”_  


...I **died** from the fall. **I died. _Frisk died. We both died._** Everything suddenly crashes down on me, all at once.  


I tried to commit **suicide** by jumping down that pit in Mount Ebott. Frisk, somehow finding me, used their soul to try and save me. I absorbed it as I fell, transporting myself here. **We both died** on impact, and Frisk reset back here. But Frisk didn’t have a body— other than me— for their soul to be placed into. So **I replaced them.**  


**I killed Frisk.**  


I feel myself being torn apart. There’s so much guilt, so much sorrow. It’s… overwhelming. 

_“But if that’s the case,”_ I can hear my voice wavering. Shaking. I wonder if I’d be shaking right now? _“Then how come I don’t remember monsters on the Surface? Or even just the term ‘monster’?”_  


_“...I don’t know.”_  


They sound so defeated. The nothingness feels so cramped, suddenly. I don’t have enough room.  


_“I don’t even remember how I found you. I just remember seeing you step off the ledge, and… casting my soul out to give you Determination… and… a-and… that’s all I know.”_  


_“...Maybe,”_ I theorize after a moment of contemplation. _“These lost memories are simply the timeline trying to correct itself? I’m not supposed to be here, at all. I’m supposed to be working in a fu—“_ I’m talking to a child. _“Fricking retail store.”_  


The darkness shifts suddenly, growing a buttercup in invisible soil. A memory?  


~ _”Howdy!” Flowey chirps._ ~  


No. No, no… get it away!  


~ _”It seems as if everyone’s finally happy. Monsters have returned to the surface. Peace and prosperity will rule across the land. Take a deep breath. There’s nothing left to worry about!” Flowey gives you a nervous smile._ ~  


Don’t trust it, don’t trust it, _don’t trust it!_  


~ _He pauses, glancing away before looking back up at you. “Well, there is one thing. One last threat. One being with the power to erase EVERYTHING. Everything everyone’s worked so hard for…” He sighs, glancing away once more._ ~  


~ _”You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?” Flowey smiles. “That’s right! I’m talking about YOU.” You haven’t said anything. You’re too hurt by his words. You wouldn’t ever…_ ~  


~ _”You still hold the power to reset everything.” Flowey coos._ ~  


_Don’t do it, please don’t._ I can hear myself begging in my head. But this is just a memory, right? I can’t reset. This is a memory. Flowey isn’t here. It can’t hurt me.  


~ _”Everyone will be ripped from this timeline, and sent back before any of this ever happened. No one will remember anything. You’ll be able to do whatever you want.”_ ~  


...Frisk did that, didn’t they…?  


~ _You shake your head in a resolute refusal._ ~  


~ _”That power,” Flowey says solemnly. “I know that power. That’s the power that you were fighting to stop, wasn’t it? The power that I wanted to use.”_ ~  


The memory cuts off, Flowey’s form being washed away like soap in a sink. I… I’m trying to process this. Flowey knows about resets.  


~ _You tap the device, the next appearing as a crimson red. There’s a smile up at the top, unnervingly similar to Flowey’s own smile. The smile you trusted._ ~  


...I recognize this. From another memory. The… the True Lab, right? My sense of self blurs, and I’m nearly pulled fully into the memory. I refocus myself, watching it instead of living it.  


~ _”The flower’s gone.”_ ~  


~ _That’s all she wrote._ ~  


Flowey was injected by Determination.  


_“Fuck, it had your powers?!”_ I screech, horrified.  


_“Yeah, but when I fell my Determination overrode his.”_  


The explanation makes little sense to me, but I accept it. Time travel is a science of which I will never comprehend, but apparently it’s fueled by willpower alone. The only thing I understand.  


…Phrases in the memory are sticking out to me now.  


~ _“Everyone will be ripped from this timeline,”_ ~  


~ _“No one will remember anything.”_ ~  


...I was ripped from my place as a retail worker, and replaced Frisk as the seventh human to fall into the Underground.  


...Does anyone remember me…?  


**...Do I even exist?**

********

I wake up with a startled cry, the revelation striking a long-buried nerve. **_Do I matter? Would anyone remember me if I just disappeared?_** I shake my head, blinking rapidly. _I don’t want to think about that anymore._  


_**Now, what’s even the point of continuing? If no one remembers me, why shouldn’t I just—?**_  


_Frisk._ I cut off the train as it hurdles towards my minimal will. _I have to **keep living for Frisk.**_  


_**I have to fight for Frisk. **I can’t let anyone hurt me, because it will hurt****_ ** **Frisk.****  


**Fight for Frisk.** The motto is buried into my subconscious, as I lay on the couch that I’ve claimed as my own. I stare up at the ceiling, unblinking, until sleep claims me.  


Frisk doesn’t talk to me. Frisk doesn’t give me memories. I don’t dream. I just exist, in a world where I’m not supposed to. _I’m not supposed to._  


_**I’m not supposed to.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve got a sadness.  
> *checks notes* ...Oh.  
> We’re heading into some dangerous angsty territory soon. Hope y’all enjoyed the humorous fluff while it lasted.


	8. Note of Retraction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ain’t canon.
> 
> …Obviously.

I wasn’t exactly planning for this to end so abruptly, but here we are.

Now, listen, the fic itself won’t be gone forever. I still have hope, and I still want to finish this thing. I’ve got too much of a script to end it all now— too much character development stored within. Little dynamics and whatnot.

But I’ve realized there’s a fatal flaw with how I’m going about… _writing._

Freeform ain’t my style, sis.

I’m a meticulous planner, a perfectionist, attempting something like this is basically suicide for any and all motivation. This latest chapter helped me realize this, considering how many times I tore a perfectly fine filler chapter down because it didn’t feel right. Probably some kind of twisted defense mechanism, to be honest. Haha.

The point is, _Second Chance_ is on suspension. I’m unsure for how long, hopefully not forever. I’ve just realized that a lot of things aren’t going the way I plan. I’ve switched head-canons, considered making this a ‘semi-AU’, played around with the idea of heavy subjects before realizing I didn’t have enough experience to write it properly. Hell, Alexia herself went through character changes between chapters.

Not to mention I’ve second-guessed the whole 1st-person thing. And I don’t really feel like rewriting entire chapters, replacing every non-dialogue ‘I’ with ‘Alexia’. No, I’m still not going for 2nd-person. Alexia is a full character, I think she deserves to be recognized as that.

[ _I might just be projecting on my personal distaste for 2nd-person fics. Never could relate, I just mentally separated myself from Y/N, Reader, whoever._ ]

Those first chapters need some work, too. Funny how only a bit of writing here and there can really change how you look at your past work. Improvement’s weird.

But, hey, it’s fine. _Second Chance_ will come back, I promise. It’ll just look different, much better, and probably will all be written before publishing. I care about this, y’know? My first actual project. I wanna make a mark, even if in a few years I’ll look back and say “Ew, that was a dumb decision.”

I’m not good at commitment. I’m trying, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’ll come back. Alexia will come back.
> 
> I’m not abandoning this, just taking a break. Like an unsteady relationship.
> 
>  
> 
> If it makes you feel better, you can consider this fic a beta. Not the full thing, full of little bugs and glitches. But it gives you a feel for what it could become. If the developers don’t screw it up. Which they never plan to. But sometimes they do, anyway. Not their fault, though, they’re just a little inexperienced.


End file.
